


The Wandering Dawn

by Risukage



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risukage/pseuds/Risukage
Summary: The collected backstory and current RP of Lysander Morgensonne, Mateus server (formerly of Faerie). Posting it here more as an "archive" and way to link the stories more than anything else, as the last couple of places I've uploaded this have gone under! If you like them, nifty, if not, well, bugger you, too! XDAnd for those of you following my Stardew Valley series, yes this is the "same" Lysander, just his FFXIV incarnation. :)





	1. Prologue 01: A Dancing Flame

He was clever.

What money he did have was split between his backpack and guitar case, carefully hidden in places none would think to look. A bit of money for use was in a pocket, but if it were taken he would not be destitute. Not that anyone would have interest in bothering him anyway; tall for 15 years old but not with a terribly strong build, he didn't look as though he had anything of worth to take and it wouldn't be worth the bother anyway. Further, he dressed in the style of the adventurers that were getting common lately, and therefore probably had a trick up his sleeve, as many thieves and muggers had learned the hard way.

He didn't.

Besides the clothes, backpack, and guitar on his back, he possessed little other than a recently-acquired thousand-yalm stare. Everything that he'd had previous he had sold, and kept only a -literal- handful of items. He had no need for them any longer, not since he had already lost what was most precious to him.

He had walked south from Ul'dah for a number of hours, pausing only to drink water when he remembered, or to adjust the light fabric he'd wrapped around his head to protect from the harsh Thanalan sun when the wind shifted it. Hazel eyes stared out from a gap in the protective headwear, and from the bottom, long, copper-red hair that he apparently was not used to wearing loose, as it kept getting caught by the wind, and he kept grabbing it out of confusion, only to quickly yank away his hand.

The sun had nearly set and he had kept walking, though it appeared to be because he simply hadn't had anything to stop him, not out of an actual destination. The dimming light finally caught his attention, and he looked around to get his bearings, noticing an inn of some sort nearby.

Oh, lodging. He'd not thought of that when he had left. He hadn't been thinking of anything, really, despite trying to think of anything other than the pain of loss...

Unwinding the delicate fabric from around his head, he tied it to one of his backpack straps and walked into the inn, ducking to the side to avoid potentially colliding with someone. Nobody was leaving, so he took the opportunity to sweep the room with an unblinking, uncaring stare. He noticed a small stage in the corner, and for a moment felt a tug, wanting to get up there. It was what he had trained to do, what he had done so many times.

...But it hadn't saved them. It was his fault that they were gone...

The innkeeper, watching him from behind the bar, finally sighed and got his attention. "You perform?" he asked, and the traveler blinked as he realized that the question had been directed at him. "I might be able to offer a discount on meals or lodging if you do well enough, a crowd spends a bit more when in a good mood." Considering this, the traveler nodded and began to take off his gear, groaning with pain as he did so. "Y'got a name?"

"...Lysander Morgensonne."

The innkeeper shrugged. "Well, Lysander, like I said, if you can change the mood here I might be able to make it worth your while."

Putting his backpack by the bar where it wouldn't easily be rummaged through or stolen, he picked up the guitar case and moved to the stage. From the case he pulled out a lovely black-lacquered guitar, and after a moment of quiet tuning, strummed once, creating a pleasant sound that got the attention of nearly everyone. After playing the opening bars to a favorite Ul'dahn tune, he sang, and those who hadn't noticed or cared earlier now did. One could hear that his voice was still changing, but it was still lovely, and he had clearly trained to accommodate for his continuing change. He played a couple more songs before he got quiet and his vision blurred.

There was one song he'd never hear again. It had been only a little more than a week, but...

The previous songs had been upbeat and bright, but this one was sweet and sad. For a moment, just a few precious minutes, he heard her singing with him, as they had always done, in harmony with each other. The room fell silent, listening respectfully, though they didn't understand why. This song had meant something to him, and they all listened silently until he finished.

It hadn't helped, the pain was worse. Putting down the guitar, he stepped to the center of the stage. He needed to focus on something else. He flowed into dance, concentrating on his movements, pushing away all other thoughts. He needed no music, he created it as he moved, translating sound into a visual spectacle at which one could marvel. Nothing else mattered at that moment, as he poured himself into the art and moved with fluid grace and beauty. Once more the room was silent, but now it was awe, and nobody dared to break the spell that he was casting. He finished the dance, and it seemed as though everyone was collectively holding their breath, waiting for someone else to risk ruining the moment.

Someone finally did, and then the applause began. Lysander heard almost none of it, the pain was still there, the noise in his head... A different dance, and once again the audience was enraptured. And again. And again, until he was too exhausted to continue.

As he stepped off the stage he staggered, and was caught by a rather well-dressed Elezen man. "You were marvelous! Please, share my table, I must know more about where you learned your art."

Numbly, Lysander nodded in reply, and followed to a table in a private part of the inn. He sat down and stared off at nothing, certain that he should do or say something, but there was so much noise in his head that he couldn't think.

"I have taken the liberty of ordering a meal already as I assumed that after that performance you would be famished. Ah, further, if you require lodging my room has a spare bed available."

The pieces finally fit together enough for Lysander to form a coherent thought, and he shrugged in agreement. "Just don't be too rough about it, it would be my first time, and I won't be very good about it."

The Elezen man's eyes went wide before he burst into hearty laughter. "Oh! My sincere apologies, I didn't realize that I had given you that impression! No, I assure you with all sincerity that my intentions are both chaste and honorable."

Blinking again, Lysander was certain that he should feel badly or embarrassed about that, but he was relieved to find that after everything that had happened he was simply numb. "...Sorry. It was rude of me to assume something like that."

"Do not fret," he chuckled, waving a hand, "now that I review my approach and choice of words I understand how you came to that conclusion. No, I am simply a traveler as well, and I am impressed by your skill. As my manservant is off taking care of his own personal business I am left alone tonight and thus have no company for a meal and have a bed spare for someone to use. If you don't mind me saying so, you look as though you badly need both."

Lysander nodded again, gratefully taking a glass of wine that had just been poured, and the alcohol helped numb the ache further. For the first time in many days he finally smiled, and felt a lump rise in his throat that he almost couldn't choke down. Without a word, the Elezen offered a handkerchief and busied himself with sampling his own wine until Lysander had composed himself.

"Thank you..." he said, letting the question speak for itself.

"Marichaunt, of Ishgard," the Elezen supplied, "which is why I seem to be one of the few who appears able to appreciate your talent. Please, tell me, where did you learn? Ah! Once you are done eating, that is," he remarked as one of the inn workers brought over their meal.

It was just now that Lysander realized just how ravenous he was, and only good manners and the desire to not insult his host kept him from stuffing himself. Besides, he knew he'd make himself sick if he rushed. After he had at least eaten enough to blunt the sharp edge of hunger he explained his upbringing in Ul'dah and where he had studied music and dance. He talked of his dream to eventually perform for the Sultana and her court, which snapped him back to reality.

"Is aught amiss?" asked Marichaunt, looking concerned but averse to prying.

Biting his lip, Lysander fought another wave of tears. "I...can't. Not anymore. It's my fault. They're gone and it's because of me..."

Refilling Lysander's glass, the Elezen recognized a fresh emotional wound and deliberately changed the subject. "Well, the weather here is such a change from home. Snow year-round there, but here it is so hot that it barely ever rains. We are both hardy people, are we not? I endure the bitter, biting cold, and you the bright, burning sun. Surely we would perish in each other's home, but at home we are right at home, are we not?"

The distraction helped and Lysander hesitantly asked him about life in Ishgard, which Marichant was happy to expound upon, feeling quite relieved when a warm smile appeared that touched and lit up the young Hyur's eyes. He couldn't help but mirror his laugh as well; it was infectious and merry, and clearly he had needed that release.

Their repast finished, Lysander had a brief moment of panic before his host assured him that his belongings had been taken up to his room. "There is a bath in there as well, and I imagine that you would welcome that after your journey."

He would, and did, taking the opportunity to clean up properly, as he had no idea when he would be able to do so again. Marichant remained outside the door until Lysander told him to come in. "I'm not shy, and it's a bother to shout through the door," he said, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. The Elezen commented upon it, as he had never seen that color before, and Lysander's face fell as he wound a lock of it around his finger. "It is... It was mother's color. We...used to braid it for each other, so it wouldn't get in the way while she weaved and while I performed..."

The other man noticed that he had worn it loose earlier. ...Oh, that explained some of the story...

They conversed a while longer as Lysander finished his bath and changed into fresh clothes. He brushed out his hair rather listlessly until Marichant took it from his hand to work out the tangles himself. "Usually it is my manservant who does this for me, but he isn't here and you appear to require the assistance."

"...Thanks. Sorry to be a bother."

"You are far from a bother. Rather, you are the most interesting companion I have had in some time. Thank you."

Shortly after that Lysander reclined back on the bed, staring at the ceiling while the other man extinguished the lights and got into his own bed. He couldn't sleep yet, even though he was exhausted. Eventually, though, Marichaunt heard soft crying from across the room, and tried his best to appear asleep so as to spare his feelings. What had happened? It was none of his business, but even so, it hurt a little that he could do little to ease the other man's pain. However, he knew that what he had done had provided comfort, security, and hope, things that he knew had been greatly appreciated that evening.

He dozed off himself when he finally heard soft, even breathing from the other bed...


	2. Prologue 02: A Passionate Flame

The market in New Gridania was as busy as usual, but for all of its bustle it wasn’t as noisy as the bazaar in Ul’dah. Perhaps it was the trees and greenery that muffled the sound rather than harsh stone that amplified it, perhaps it was the people themselves that weren’t given to shouting or raising their voices. Regardless, while Lysander missed the chaotic commerce of his former home, he was growing fond of the orderly yet determined pace at which people shopped in his current home. 

Flicking his wrist, a fan dropped into his hand, and he opened it with a practiced snap. It wasn’t that hot out, but the breeze had stopped, and all of the greenery meant that it was a bit more humid than Ul’dah. Heat had never bothered him, not as a son of the desert, but even in a slightly cooler climate like this a bit of mugginess was almost unbearable. 

A bag over one arm, he moved through the crowd to examine stalls and pick up a few things here and there. He didn’t need much, not with his current profession, as though he was still relatively new he did fetch a decent price, and that covered a great deal of expenses. Small luxuries and needs, though, were his to deal with, and he enjoyed the little time he had to himself to get out and about a bit. It wasn’t as though he was cooped up exactly, but it was expected to be “on call,” as it were, and therefore the few hours he could get away he managed carefully. 

Stopping by one last stall, he paused, staring at what was possibly a familiar figure, but he wasn’t certain, and anyroad, the name eluded him. No, there was a name, what was it? “…Marichaunt?” he asked, certain that he had been wrong, but when the figure became a profile and then a full face, he gasped with delight to realize that he’d been right. “Ah! It is you! It’s been, oh, five years, hasn’t it?” 

The tall, blonde Elezen man looked at him with much the same expression that Lysander had worn a moment before, but again he mirrored the Hyur and laughed. “Fury take me, it _is_ you, Lysander! And yes, I believe it has been five years. Well, they’ve certainly been good to you,” he replied, looking his companion up and down, “you’ve become a fine young man in that time. It’s good to see you, I have thought of you and wondered how you’ve… Oh.” He trailed off and his eyebrows went up as he took in Lysander’s manner of dress and posture.

Chuckling, Lysander hid a smile behind the fan, but the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes and made them light up showed it clearly. “So you’ve already figured it out. I’m not surprised, I do make it rather obvious, but then, I also make it look quite good.”

“That you do, my friend, though I am not surprised that this is the path you’ve chosen, given one of the first things you said to me when we first met!”

It was Lysander’s turn to laugh as he folded the fan and smiled, giving Marichaunt a fond look. “Well, it isn’t a _bad_ profession, really. And to be honest, I’ve not got many other skills at which I can make a living just yet. I thought that while I was still young and attractive I might as well give it a try, and when I am no longer desirable move on to something else. Anyroad, it’s good to see you, I’ve wondered about you as well, and I never got the chance to properly thank you for all that you did.”

“It wasn’t much-“ Marichaunt averred, but was cut off when Lysander gestured sharply at him with his fan.

“You gave some random Hyur a second chance at life with a bit of kindness that you could just as easily have withheld. There was no reason for you to open up your room and your heart like that, but you did because it was the right thing to do, and I intend to repay you for that. I…” He sighed and shook his head, looking momentarily downcast. “I was in a very bad spot when we met, and if we hadn’t, I…might not be here…” Exhaling heavily, he found his smile again. “But I’m serious, please, let me find a way to repay it. Are you in Gridania for long?”

Nodding, Marichaunt mirrored Lysander’s smile. “Only for another day, but yes. I’ve nothing going on this afternoon or tonight, but… Ah! I am sorry, I did not mean to imply…” He waved his hands in embarrassment, but Lysander took them and chuckled softly.

“I know what you meant, relax. You wouldn’t be the first Ishgardian client I’ve had, and definitely not the first who simply wanted intelligent conversation and skilled entertainment. I’ve kept up with my music and dance, and have picked up some new styles from a number of places. Don’t be embarrassed.” He squeezed Marichaunt’s hands. “I’m serious, I’ve got no clients lined up tonight, so I’m free as well. I assume you know where to go,” he teased, giggling at the sudden blush in the Elezen’s cheeks, “so just ask for the Copper Sunflower. I’ll have a pot of tea ready. How’s that sound?”

This somehow relieved the other man, and he nodded, looking quite eager. “That would be lovely. My manservant is off on personal business as well and we will not meet up again until tomorrow, so this timing is excellent. I shall see you in a few hours, then.”

Squeezing his friend’s hands one more time, Lysander waved to him as he darted off, stopping in at one final stall and then making his way back as quickly as possible; that detour had been welcome but put him a couple of minutes behind schedule. He requested a tray of tea to be sent to his room in a little while, informing those in charge of his potential visitor, then returned to his room. It wasn’t opulent, but it was rather plush, and designed around his “talents;” a couple of musical instruments, an open area for dance, an elegant table and chairs, and, of course, a very comfortable bed.

Late that afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Lysander opened it to admit the porter bearing a tray of tea and light snacks. He thanked her and received a polite bow in return, as well as being informed that he had a guest on the way up. Smiling at this information, he thanked her once more and was about to close the door when she nearly bumped into Marichaunt on the way out.

“Oh! My pardons, sir!” she gasped, but the Elezen once more gestured as he had earlier, taking the fault for the near-collision.

“I wasn’t paying attention, it is my apologies.” Offering him a bow as well, she gestured for him to enter the room and returned down the hall. A little unsure of how to proceed, Marichaunt stepped into the room and looked around, though he did relax a little when Lysander closed the door behind him and approached him with open arms. “Ah! There you are!” He accepted the hug given to him and shrugged out of his coat, which the Hyur took and hung up.

“I’m glad you could make it, and you have good timing,” Lysander remarked, indicating the table, “she just brought in tea and something to eat. Please, be seated.” In full “host” mode, Lysander pulled out his chair for him before taking his own seat, then poured the Elezen a cup of tea before serving himself. “Take as much as you like, and if you require more I can send for it. Ah! Will you be staying the night?”

This question made the blonde man almost spill his drink as his cheeks flushed dark red. “I… I believe that I can. At the least, it seemed to be included- That is! I didn’t mean that I assume that we’ll- I came here to visit and-“

Laughing happily, Lysander reached across the table to take his friend’s hand again. “Relax, luv. Like I said, you’re not the first who simply desires platonic and civilized company. I have a number of regulars who find it more convenient and inexpensive to book me for the entire night, as it _is_ quite nice to spend the night in the arms of another. Please, whatever you want, just ask. I am here to satisfy the needs of my clients, do not feel the need to hold back.”

Marichant swallowed and nodded, the blush fading as he sipped his tea and relaxed once again. They conversed for quite some time, necessitating a second batch of tea and food, and the light outside had completely faded to black before Marichaunt sighed and put down his empty cup for the last time. “Ah, this has been lovely. I really had missed you and been a little worried, and I am surprised at how relieved I am to know that you are doing well. Particularly after how you had- Ah, my apologies, I keep inferring that…”

He trailed off as Lysander sighed, smiled, stood, and walked over to him, gently taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. “If you want something, luv, just say so. I am here to satisfy the needs of my clients. _All_ of their needs. Do not feel that you need to hold back. Talk to me.”

Licking his lips, the Elezen’s cheeks colored a little again as he tried to find words that weren’t completely embarrassing. “I… Well, I _have_ been wondering what…what it would be like with…” He cleared his throat and looked away, blinking in surprise when Lysander put soft fingers on his chin and turned him to meet his eyes.

“Talk to me. What do you want?”

Again, Marichaunt hesitated, clearly embarrassed but wanting to ask something. With an amused chuckle, Lysander put an arm around his companion’s waist and ran the other hand up the side of his face to lace his fingers in his hair, pulling him into a very warm, very skilled, and very long kiss. The Elezen almost staggered before he grabbed Lysander for support, then relaxed into it, allowing his hands to roam without thinking about it. When Lysander finally released him to catch his breath he staggered again, then realized that he was holding onto Lysander’s bottom with both hands. He tried to apologize but was interrupted by another delighted laugh.

“What did I just tell you? Talk to me! Tell me what you want! I’m yours tonight, use me as you like.” With a nod, Marichaunt began undoing the other man’s shirt but paused in the middle of it. “ _Use. Me_ ,” Lysander whispered, kissing him again, “don’t hold back.”

His hesitation and uncertainty finally expended, Marichaunt finally allowed himself to enjoy what he was doing, encouraged by his partner, who responded to his desires and requests, but never submissively, and this excited him much more than he had imagined.

Much later, the Elezen sprawled on his back, panting for breath, having kicked away the sheets that stuck to him from sweat, shuddering a little as Lysander nibbled his neck before reclining next to him again, propped up on one elbow and looking extremely pleased with himself. Almost weakly, Marichaunt reached up to wrap a lock of the loose copper-colored hair around his fingers and press it to his lips.

“Fury take me, that was magnificent.”

“Yes, I am,” Lysander chuckled, leaning over once more to brush the ghost of a kiss across his lips before resuming his languid position, tracing delicate fingers across his partner’s body, “and yes, you were. Feeling a bit better?”

“By Halone, _yes_. This is far from my first time, but…”

“But it is with another male,” Lysander chuckled, brushing the back of his fingers across Marichaunt’s cheek, “and I’m honored to be your first. I don’t know if it will be better with others, but I certainly hope so.”

Shaking his head, Marichaunt pulled Lysander on top of himself and ran his fingers through his hair, which Lysander leaned into happily, eyes closed and sighing. “No, I hope that it will only be this way with you. Business takes me this way now and then, and…”

“Appraise me of your schedule and I shall clear mine,” Lysander murmured, almost purring from his partner’s touch, “it is you that I have to thank for your kindness that kept me going a bit longer. Allow me to express that thanks at least once again.”

Now completely relaxed in the other man’s presence, Marichaunt hugged him firmly before kissing him again, letting his hands explore freely and with contentment. “Well, I suppose that I can give you that opportunity a few more times tonight, and again as often as I can in the future.”

“I’d like that.”

Several hours later the lights had been shut off and the sheets rearranged. An arm around the Hyur, Marichaunt kissed a bare shoulder as he felt himself begin to drift off for sleep. As a near-afterthought, he pulled the blanket over them both a little more, enjoying the shared warmth and solid presence of the other man pressed up against him, already asleep and contentedly so. He smiled to himself, remembering that first night, how Lysander had cried himself to sleep, and how now he rested in complete tranquility, extending it to his partner.

_It is strange how things change, how we change. How one small act of kindness can make such a difference. I could not have foreseen this and I am so glad for what I did, not for my own needs, but because I was able make such a small but important change in the life of another._

Yawning, he kissed Lysander’s shoulder again and held him firmly, following him into deep sleep in less than a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	3. Prologue 03: An Untouchable Flame

The world had ended.

Well, not completely. But for all of the destruction and the lives that had been lost, it might as well have. The weather in so many places had drastically shifted. The lands in others suddenly became lush or barren. Strange, dangerous creatures now stalked places that had once been havens of safety. Those that had survived the event, what many were calling The Calamity, wondered if the dead were actually better off than those who lived…

Lysander leaned on the railing of one of the many sweeping walkways that connected and traversed the city of Limsa Lominsa. The white stone gleamed in the bright afternoon sunlight, washed clean from the rain the night before. His usual rolanberry-flavored cigarette was held loosely between his fingers and he took a drag from it now and then, staring off at nothing in particular as he thought.

He didn’t regret leaving Gridania, or his previous profession. It had been a nice enough city, and it hadn’t been a bad line of work. But as the moon Dalamud had loomed ever closer in the sky and Garlean forces had encroached upon Eorzean lands, more and more people sought emotional comfort rather than physical pleasure. Not that this bothered him, he was capable of it and happy to do so, as a client was a client. But when the moon had shattered and the dread primal had let loose its wrath…

Snarling, he almost crushed the cigarette in his hand. Imperial bastards, they continued to take away from him, even indirectly. He took a long, angry puff from his smoke, exhaling slowly. Nothing to be done about it for now. Yet. But with everything in such uncertainty he had decided that a change of careers was in order. People weren’t likely to have much spare money to spend on a luxury like him, so it was a good idea to get out and find something new. Besides, it had been quite some time since he’d wandered and journeyed, and apparently Eorzea had changed in a number of places. Perhaps he’d find his fortune in Limsa, or even-

No. No, he wasn’t going back to Ul’dah. Only once a year to pay his respects, and while that was coming up in a while, it wasn’t for a little while. Maybe he’d look for something in Thanalan, there were a few places he’d considered revisiting, but not the city. He couldn’t go back home. There wasn’t one to go back to.

He finished his cigarette and ignited the last of it on his palm with a bit of flame, scattering the ashes to the wind. He wasn’t a proper Thaumaturge, as he’d failed out of that guild early on, but he did have a small affinity for fire, given his propensity for accidentally setting things (and a couple of times, himself) on fire. It wasn’t much, but he could produce a tiny flame if he focused, enough to light a campfire. Or, as he used it now, for the occasional cigarette.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he wandered into the Drowning Wench, rolling his eyes at the name. Really? And people said that Ul’dah had a lack of taste. Well, at least the booze didn’t lack it. He ordered another pint and took a seat at an empty table, rubbing the back of his neck and toying with a lock of his hair. He still didn’t braid it, and while he sometimes tied it back, he often just left it loose. It had been a part of his “image” as a courtesan, but it was probably time for him to change his appearance a bit as well. At least he had a bit to live off of for a while, but how long that’d last, especially with everything being so uncertain right now, he didn’t know.

Halfway through his drink he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Well, yer a pretty wench, ‘ows about a few gil fer yer time, lass?”

Lysander immediately bristled. It wasn’t that he was angry about being mistaken for a female. Seven hells, that androgyny had been part of his allure and “image,” and he was quite proud of it. What made him grind his teeth was that this intoxicated sot thought he was just a two-gil tavern whore.

He gave the scruffy Midlander a polite yet strained smile. “Sorry, mate, but you can’t afford me. B’sides, I serve more…cultured clientele.” Wrinkling his nose, he took a swig of his beer. “And those who have bathed more recently than before the last era.”

Clearly drunk and now embarrassed as well as angry, the other man tried to grab Lysander’s shirt, but this was deflected with insulting ease and a frustrated sigh. “Mate, piss off, you are _literally_ not worth my time, and if you spill my beer I _will_ thump you.”

This pushed the other man over the edge, and he wound up for a heavy punch, telegraphing the move so obviously that Lysander actually had time to give him a look of complete disdain before effortlessly rising out of the chair and dodging away. As the drunk tripped over the now-empty chair, having completely overextended himself, Lysander crossed one ankle over the other, resting his weight on one hand on the table while he sipped his drink.

“Really now, you’re just making a fool of yourself. Sod off and let me get trashed in peace, and- Or not,” he sighed, as the man got to his feet and lunged at him. The dancer once more pivoted with ease and avoided the attack, watching his opponent stumble and have to regain his balance with difficulty. “I’m not against giving people a show, but usually I charge for that sort of thing. Less than my other ‘services,’ anyroad.” He took another swig, finishing his glass as he yet again avoided being tackled, snorting with amusement as the other man tripped and fell onto the table, knocking it over.

Lysander set his empty mug on a non-upturned table and put a hand on his hip, his weight shifted to one leg as he smirked with utter insolence. “You know, this is actually pretty entertaining. And here I thought that the night would be boring- Whoops, missed again!” Now feeling extremely cheeky and rather limber from the alcohol he danced around the other man, avoiding all punches and attempts to grapple with elegant skill, laughing as he did so. At one point he took the other man’s hand and pulled him in for a quick few steps together before spiraling away and flowing into one of the exotic Thavnarian dances that crowds always enjoyed.

All merriment must eventually come to an end, though it could have done so a little better for the unfortunate Yellowjacket guard that led a small squad that had been called in to deal with the disturbance. The drunk had picked up a chair to throw, and naturally, Lysander had smoothly avoided it, which the guard took straight to the face. Fortunately, Roegadyn are hardy sorts, especially ones serving in the city guard, so this only made him angry. The color drained from the drunk’s face as he suddenly discovered that he was now very, _very_ sober. Lysander winced in sympathy and was about to inquire as to the state of the guard’s health when he was cut off.

"Right, you, you’re under arrest for disturbing the peace and assaulting a member of the guard,” he growled, rubbing his nose, then glared at Lysander, “and _you_ , what’s your part in all of this?”

Under other circumstances Lysander might have been flippant or snarky, but right now he knew that being cheeky would probably land him in a jail cell for the night, and he had plans for more comfortable accommodations. Shrugging, he offered an apologetic smile. “I was having a drink to myself, he made a…business proposal, I told him that I wasn’t interested, and he took offense. Terribly sorry for the bother, I’ve already paid my tab, so I’ll just see myself out. I don’t want further trouble.”

The guard flicked a glance at the inn proprietor, who nodded, confirming the story. He gave Lysander a tired look of “I don’t get paid enough for this” and sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, yer free to go. Just don’t cause any more mischief or I’ll clap you in irons myself.”

Lysander took this opportunity, bowing politely and darting out around the other guards. Once again, he took up a spot leaning on one of the railings overlooking the city and water. Damn. That beer hadn’t been terribly good, but it had been better than nothing, and he wasn’t sure of where else he could get a drink right now. Well, probably time to go find an inn for the night. As he was reaching into his coat for his cigarette case he felt a prickle on the back of his neck and glanced over into a particularly curious shadow.

“Hunh, ye _are_ good,” the darkness said, taking the form of a Lalafell in strange garb that somewhat reminded him of corsairs, but not quite. He folded his arms across his chest and examined Lysander with an impressed look. “Most people can’t notice us.”

Shrugging, Lysander opened the slim metal case with a practiced flick, extracting one of the long, slim, dark-brown cigarettes that smelled of tobacco and rolanberry. He offered the case to the newcomer, who waved it away politely. Lysander put the cigarette between his lips, returned the case to its pocket, and snapped his fingers, creating a small flame that he cupped in both hands to light the end of his cigarette. “I’m an entertainer. I’m used to having eyes on me and knowing where they’re coming from. I’d be a poor performer if I didn’t know how to watch and manipulate a crowd.”

“And a Thaumaturge?” queried the other person, further interested in the flame but not surprised or bothered by it. Lysander shook his head and blew a thin stream of smoke.

“Nah, I tried, but failed out of the guild. I can make that little flame, but can’t actually channel mana. No idea why, but it’s useful enough.”

“Hmm, makes sense, y’move like a trained fighter, not a caster.”

Again Lysander shook his head. “Not a fighter, mate, a dancer. Trained in Ul’dah since I could walk, and I’ve traveled the last ten or so years picking up other styles wherever I go. I tried some weapons, but much as I tried, never could pick up father’s style. Swords and shields aren’t my thing.”

“What about a lighter weapon? Knives or daggers, p’haps?”

Getting the impression that his companion was interested in more than idle chatter, Lysander hoisted himself up to sit on the railing, resting his elbows on his knees and holding the cigarette loosely between two fingers as he studied the inquisitive Lala. “Could do. I cut the hells out of myself ages ago, but I’m a dab hand with a small blade when I need it, and my throwing arm isn’t strong but is accurate. Why do you ask?”

Shrugging, the smaller man leaned against the railing next to him, fingers laced behind his head. “Just being sociable, one artist ta another an’ all.”

Lysander grinned and sat up straighter, taking a long pull from his cigarette, holding it, then exhaling slowly. “Sounds a bit like a job interview to me. You’re not an information broker, since you talk of weapons and not money, and you’re honorable, not like mere cutthroats or assassins. I just wonder what a person would want with someone who’s light on their feet and skilled at fighting without fighting.”

The diminutive man laughed, slapping his leg. “Yer a proper clever one, Jacke’ll like ye, I’m sure.” He offered a hand and a smile. “I’m Underfoot.”

“Lysander Morgensonne,” he replied, completing the gesture.

Gesturing over his shoulder, Underfoot grinned as wide as his face could go. “If ye’ve got nothin’ better ta do and no place ta be, perhaps I can satisfy yer curiosity a bit.”

“Might as well, I haven’t grabbed a place to stay tonight and I’ve got nothing going on anyroad. Lead on, mate.” Lysander pushed himself off of the railing and hooked a thumb in his belt as he followed, strolling along with his usual rolling swagger, watching everything without appearing to, and far more interested than he was trying to let on. What an interesting day it had been….

Not that far from the Wench they passed by the Fisherman’s Guild, then continued on along the docks, which made Lysander slightly wary, though he managed to hide it for the moment. Their path took them to a place just outside of the city but still on the pier, in a rather unassuming but well-maintained building. He burned the last of his cigarette the same as he’d done to the other one earlier and dusted off his hands. Underfoot waved to someone lounging against the wall next to the door, who gave Lysander a cursory look, then went back to appearing bored as he watched everything without appearing to. This almost made Lysander stumble, as he hadn’t expected this sort of casual yet complete observation, and wondered what he was getting into.

As they walked in, a female Hyur at one of the tables perked up and waved at him. “Hey! Underfoot! Did’ja hear about that doofus that got nicked by the guards today?”

She was tall for a female, though not nearly as much as him, and he was immediately impressed by the mane of gold-blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, somewhat reminding him of a lion. (No, lionesses didn’t have manes like the males did, but damn if it wasn’t a startling resemblance.) Dark blue eyes twinkled with glee as she clutched her mug in both hands, grinning fit to burst, and she seemed ready to continue with her story when she noticed Lysander and somehow managed to grin even more widely.

“Whoa, who are _you_ , cutie?” she giggled, “it’s about time that we recruited some eye candy around here. B’sides me, that is.”

Rolling his eyes, Underfoot folded his arms across his chest and sighed with good humor. “He’s tha one what got that bloke nicked by the guards. Daft bastard made a pass at ‘im, then tried to pick a fight, an’ Lysander here jus’ danced in circles around him, neat as ye please.”

This appraisal made her give him a much more introspective look, and Lysander got the impression that he might be in a lion’s den after all. “Hunh, really now,” she remarked, tapping a finger on the tabletop before getting up to get a better look at him. “We don’t often recruit people out of nowhere, so you must be pretty damn good to get someone to chat you up. Weapons?”

He blinked a couple of times at the shift in atmosphere, but caught himself quickly. “Yes and no. I’m not a proper fighter, but I suppose that I could learn. I’m not that bad with knives. Damn near sliced off my thumb ages ago but I’ve gotten better since then.” Holding out his hand, palm-up, he showed the thin, clean scar that followed the curve of his thumb in a long, wide arc. “You know how you’re supposed to cut _away_ from yourself when holding something? Yeah, I didn’t at that time.”

Eyes wide and gasping with awe, she grabbed his hand and poked at the line, wincing in empathy but still laughing. “Oh Twelve, that must have bled for hours. Hey! Jacke! Come have a look at this!”

“Someone or somethin’ catch yer fancy, Risu?” someone asked, and Lysander felt his throat tighten and his mouth go dry as another Hyur walked up, but male, and so very, _very_ handsome. Dark brown hair poked out neatly from under a green and white bandana, and he was dressed the same as the other two with whom Lysander had been chatting. Bright blue eyes were filled with curiosity and then a similar sort of awe when he saw what Risu had pointed out to him, and he took Lysander’s hand to have a look himself.

“Ye cut yerself a good one there, lad, must’ve been a damn good knife. That looks like it cut deep but clean.” He chuckled to himself and released Lysander’s hand after grasping it firmly. “Ah, apologies, didn’t introduce m’self yet. I’m Jacke. Now, do ye have a name, me dimber dancer?”

Oh gods, oh merciful Twelve, that accent. Lysander was puzzled for a moment, but quickly parsed it, and tried to swallow his stomach and not his tongue, both of which were wrapped rather firmly around his brain. “Lysander Morgensonne,” he finally managed, realizing that he was staring and felt his cheeks and ears grow hot.

“L’sander, eh? Looks like Underfoot dragged ye here wi’ nary a whid about why.” All Lysander could do was nod, not quite certain what was going on, but interested all the same, and strangely, not the least bit worried. Jacke gestured to the rest of the room. “We’re the Sisters of the Dutiful Edelweiss ta most people, but ta those ta whom it matters, we’re the Rogues’ Guild.”

Blinking again with surprise, Lysander was actually relieved by this information. “Half a moment, pull the other one, it’s got bells on. You’re telling me that I’ve been scouted by the Rogues? I’ve bloody well heard of you all the way out in Gridania! Well,” he averred, rubbing the back of his neck, “I did dabble with information brokering at the same time, so while you’re not _famous_ it’s no real surprise that I’d have learned about you lot.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he spun around to see a female Seeker perched on a chair, studying him curiously. She showed her fangs and laughed raucously. “Cor! Yer a bene cove, Lysander, never ‘ad a colt sniff me out if I didn’t want them ta do so.”

“Well, looks like V’kebbe likes you, too,” Risu snickered, “can we keep him, Jacke, pleeeease? I promise I’ll feed him and take him for walks every day, and give him baths when he gets all scruffy!” She made puppy-dog eyes as well as a “pretty please” gesture, earning laughter from her fellow Rogues.

Feeling quite comfortable somehow, Lysander put his fists on his hips and smirked at Risu. “You’d better be certain about that, luv, I’m quite high-maintenance. My ego needs continual stroking, and it takes _such_ a precise diet to have hair as shiny and full as mine!”

Risu erupted into uproarious laughter, sitting down to wipe her eyes. “Oh _Twelve_ , please say that you’re staying, you are such a delight, sweetie.”

With an amused smirk, Jacke looked him up and down again. “Merriment aside, we do mean business, lad. But that means fightin’ now and then. ‘Ow’s yer bladework?”

“Ah, not very good. At all,” Lysander replied, now feeling like he'd missed a vital skill that he should've picked up earlier, “but I’d like to learn. I’m rubbish with a sword, but daggers might be something for which I’m suited.”

There was a silent conversation exchanged in a few glances among the other Rogues, each of them giving a slight nod. Jacke flashed Lysander a smile that made the performer weak in the knees. “Well, one last thing, then, or really, three things. The Code.” He held up his fingers, ticking off each point as he listed them. “First, ye don’t bite from yer mates. Second, ye don’t rook a crew out o’ their spoils. An’ thirdly, ye don’t trade culls like they was chattel. While the Yellowjackets enforce the law, as ye saw t’night in the tavern, we enforce the  _Code_. We walk in the darkmans so that goodly folk can walk without fear in the light.”

Lysander considered all of this, thinking quietly. “So you protect those who can’t fight for themselves, and bring back what was wrongly taken.” He smiled warmly and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I’m in. I was looking for a change of scenery anyroad, and maybe this time I’ll be strong enough to protect those I care about.”

Grinning, Risu hugged him and ruffled his hair. “Well! Guess I’m officially your older sister now! Risukage Hayaken, here to help. Follow me, I’ll get’cha set up with your first daggers and all, and get your questions.” She took him by the wrist and dragged him off, gesturing animatedly. “You’ll have a day or two to feel things out, just in case you’re not cut out for this after all. There’s no problem with that, we’re not exactly exclusive, but what we do isn’t for everybody. So! What’re your questions?”

The day finally caught up with him, and he sighed with a weary smile. “Can we get a beer anywhere nearby?”

Risu stopped up short, her eyes wide, and then her grin matched them. “You. I _like_ you. We’re going to get along fantastically.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	4. Prologue 04: A Quenched Flame

It was evening in Limsa Lominsa, and while the city’s upper decks and merchant rows still bustled with lively chatter and commerce, the docks at the southern end of the city were nearly silent, save for the soft crash and splash of waves against the support pylons.

That was because Rogues made no noise at all.

They were nearly invisible as well, though it was that strange sort of non-visibility wherein a person simply makes themselves unnoticed. Someone directly looking might notice, but a Rogue who does _not_ want to be noticed won’t, until they do, and then a person often finds a sharpened bit of steel in some vital organ first. Since there was nobody there who _could_ see them, other than each other, it must be stated that they knew that there were three of them out there that evening, and all of them were watching the ship that had docked earlier that day.

Lysander was rather new to the whole thing, especially getting the hang of not-being-noticed, but was making a decent job of it, if not quite as good as Risu and V’kebbe, who were hands-down the best in the guild. He completely failed at it when Jacke walked up, turning a shade of red nearly the color of his hair.

_Idiot.  You don’t have a chance anyway, quit being a dingus. Besides, there’s a mission on._

He paused in his internal recrimination as the others gathered, still managing to be unseen, and forced himself to find that mental state once more, hiding in plain sight.  Jacke crossed his arms across his chest, nodding to Risu for her report. Quietly, she relayed her findings, in case of accidental nearby ears.

“Confirmed, the treasures are aboard. They tried to play it off as selling them here to another party, but our contact was there for the ‘purchase’ and had a good look. Once they sail tonight they’re as good as gone, so the Yellowjackets better be in place or this’ll all have been for nothing. …Of course, if they move too early, then it’s blown that way as well.”

Jacke confirmed that the city guard was in place and waiting for their cue, and that while they didn’t necessarily _like_ it, they grudgingly understood the need for a bit of secrecy and subtlety in this endeavor. He glanced over at Lysander and grinned, which sent the poor man’s heart into a rhythmic pounding that he was amazed everyone else didn’t hear.

“Doin’ alright there, L’sander? Ye look a tad shaky. Nervous about yer first mission?”

The copper-haired Hyur completely forgot how to speak for a second, shaking his head and blushing again, then cleared his throat and smiled lopsidedly. “Ah, no, just… Not really. It’s just that this is a big responsibility, I want to do my best but I’m a little worried about messing something up.”

Risu grinned at him with her familiar older-sister manner. “You’ll be fine, sweetie, all of us are pros, and we wouldn’t have brought you along if we didn’t think you couldn’t do it. You’re one of our best at sneaking, well, behind me and V’kebbe, anyroad, and you’re pretty damn scary with those knives when you put your mind to it. Hopefully you won’t need those daggers, but best to be prepared.”

“Speakin’ of prepared, everyone’s set ta go, yeah?” Jacke asked, receiving three nods in reply, and nodding in return. “Right then, to yer places, let’s get ready ta dance.”

He gestured for Lysander to follow as V’kebbe and Risu split off and boarded the ship from different directions, and once more Lysander was certain that he was going to make an absolute and total fool of himself.

Twelve help him, the guild leader was handsome and charming, and oh _gods_ , what he wouldn’t give for just a hug. And for a kiss? Ah, the gods would never be so kind. Lysander knew himself to be the hopelessly romantic sort, even after his years of being a courtesan. But it was that reason exactly that he knew he had no chance. He was just someone whose body could be rented for a few hours for the right amount of coin. Who could ever love that? Who would want to? Besides, it wasn’t as though he deserved it.

Without words, Lysander followed, boarding from a different and much more perilous direction; while Risu and V’kebbe had taken the boarding planks, they were traipsing across the mooring ropes. Strangely, while most people would have been bothered by such a perilous route, Lysander’s dancing pedigree had given him a rather surprising level of balance and dexterity. The height and unsteady sway didn’t bother him at all. Now, the water below him…

He landed on the deck, gratefully, shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder, then jumped when he felt a hand on the other. Jacke grinned at him with a soft chuckle. “Ye certain that things are fine?” he asked, and Lysander was grateful for the night that had just fallen, hiding his face coloring crimson yet again.

_Double idiot, what is wrong with you?_

“Ah, just fine, I’m… I’m just not good around water…” he replied, his blush now of embarrassment as he looked away and focused on the ship’s deck instead. Thankfully, Jacke seemed to be amused, but it was in a sympathetic manner.

“Fair enough, not everyone’s cut out fer tha seafarin’ life. How many’d ‘ave been able ta do tha walk that ye just did? That’s why I chose ye fer this mission, L’sander, just keep yer head on an’ ye’ll be just fine.”

Bolstered by his guildmaster’s confidence, Lysander exhaled deeply and found his center again, seeking that state of not-being-seen once more. The ship’s crew was beginning to come up from below decks, apparently getting ready for departure, now that the sun had set. He did a quick mental run-through of the plan; V’kebbe and Risu would grab the treasures and get them off of the ship to Rogues waiting on the docks nearby, and Lysander and Jacke were going to sabotage the steering and sailing components. Done right, this would be dealt with quickly and silently, and with as few casualties and injuries as possible. Paperwork and whatnot with the Yellowjackets was such a tedious bore even when it was the villains that were hurt.

Skillfully, the two of them disabled the steering wheel, ensuring that no matter how it was spun, the rudder wouldn’t move. This complete, they climbed the rigging, aiming to cut the numerous ropes that held the whole thing up and together and allowed the ship to tack into the wind and sail. They were in the middle of severing a particularly thick rope when all seven hells broke loose.

“LEG IT!” shouted Risu, sprinting up the stairs from below decks, pursued by no less than four pirates. Everyone else on deck (at least seven or eight) spun to see the commotion and made to pursue. Both men up in the sails paused in their work, wondering what had just happened to cause her to run like that, knowing that it was definitely a bad thing.

There was a very bright light.

There was a very loud noise.

Lysander felt the wind knocked from his lungs as he was thrown into the sky by an invisible hand.

There was nothing.

 

Bitter. Salty. Wet. Cold.

Lysander gagged and retched, coughing up…water? What? Why would…

Perplexed, he continued to expel the briny liquid from his lungs, mouth, and nose, shakily supporting himself on hands and knees, feeling as though he’d been hit by a chocobo cart.

“Seven hells, you’re alive. The gods were looking out for you, sweetie, though damn near a bit late.”

He blinked a couple of times and scrubbed away the rime from his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to regain his bearings. The world was a blur of dark colors, mixed with a few bright points, all of which finally resolved into the docks next to the boat.

Well, what was _left_ of the boat.

With shaking limbs, he finally sat up, resting his weight on his hands behind him, legs sprawled haphazardly, watching the smoke waft up from the somewhat broken ship, some small flames beginning to catch.

“I… What… We were…”

Sighing deeply, Risu flopped down next to him, looking a little bloodied from a cut on her cheek, but also a mixture of embarrassed and reticent. “My fault. Kinda. A bit. I was sneaking into the hold to get the items and some bloke who had gone down there for another cask of something plowed straight into me. He stumbled backward, tripped on something, and both the damn cask and his lantern went flying, and the lantern shattered.” She put her face in her hands. “Into the gods damned powder room. One of the barrels caught, and it was all I could do to bust arse and get out of there before I went up with everything else.”

She groaned with irritation and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m gonna get such an earful from so many people about this. I buggered it up pretty good and damn near got you and Jacke killed.”

Lysander blinked and looked at the ship again, looking for the perch where he and the guildmaster had been working, and his jaw dropped. “How did we survive that fall? I… Wait, I’m soaked- Shit, I can’t swim, how-“

“The both of you went into the drink, apparently, and he got to you just in time, ‘cause once I picked myself up off of the deck after taking a piece of it to the back of the head he shouted at me to help get the two of you out of the water and onto the docks, and you were out cold.” She gestured toward the Fisherman’s Guild, where Jacke was talking with some of the Yellowjackets. “He’s taking care of ‘politics’ right now. Sounds like they’re a bit miffed that everything went pear-shaped like that, but it sounds like what we need wasn’t damaged. The powder kegs went up, but it was an explosion, not a conflagration, so they’re putting out the fires right now.”

Flopping onto her back, she sighed and closed her eyes. “Sorry, sweetie, glad you’re okay. I- Shit, you _are_ okay, aren’t you?”  
Lysander had begun to go into shock, not only from the cold of being soaked in the Limsan nighttime air, but almost dying helpessly, especially from _water_ … She sat up and pulled him into her lap, hugging him close and stroking his hair. Reflexively, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, trying to hold back tears and stop shaking, but he couldn’t get out of his head the last moments that he remembered before he had regained consciousness on the docks. They had very nearly been his _last_ memories.

She hummed quietly, nothing in particular, as she wasn’t a musician or good at comfort, but knew she should do something to help him relax. After a few minutes he sniffed, and pulled away, scrubbing at his eyes. “I’m…a bit better now. That’s… I’m scared of water. Can’t swim.”

Giving him a look of amazed astonishment, she laughed and hugged him firmly. “You’re hydrophobic and you still went up there with Jacke like that? You are a brave, crazy bastard, and I am so proud of you. That took a lot of courage, and I’m even more mad at myself that it ended like this. I- Shit, time for me to get an arse-chewing, I think,” she remarked, seeing Jacke and the leader of the Yellowjackets approaching, and stood, brushing herself off. “With any luck I’ll still be in the guild tomorrow.”

With a bit of difficulty, Lysander got to his feet as well, almost stumbling when he saw Jacke smile. “Ye had me worried, L’sander, but it looks like it’ll take more than a ship goin’ sky-high ta kill ye. Head on back, get a hot cup o’ somethin’ ta drink and a fresh change o’ clothes, mission’s complete, as it were.”

He wanted to say something, anything, but he tripped over his own tongue, lost in those bright blue eyes. All he could do was nod, and he felt his knees go a bit weak when the smile widened. Leaving a somewhat damp trail on the way back, he paused at the door to try to wring out what he could from his clothes and removed his boots. Fortunately, nothing was torn or bloodied, and everything could be dried without damage from the salt water, but he definitely needed a hot bath and dry clothes.

Gossip was already flying when he walked in and ducked toward the stairs, and though he got numerous questioning looks, nobody asked anything, knowing they’d get the full story when everyone else returned. He went to his room, discarded his clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor, and hastily rinsed off in the hottest water he could. With the salt out of his hair he dried off and messily toweled it to a sort of heavy dampness and changed into a fresh shirt and trousers, going back downstairs barefoot because he just couldn’t be bothered with anything more.

With a cup of hot tea in hand, he took a seat at an unoccupied table, and was about to have a sip when everyone else returned. Risu looked less chastised than he had expected, and she perked up to cross the room and flop next to him. “Well, looks like things worked out after all. The ship isn’t a total loss, but is going to need a _massive_ refit to be useful. The city has confiscated it, as well as everything on it, all of the treasure included, and the pirates are safely in prison, so hurrah!”

Smiling and sighing with relief, Lysander nodded and took a sip of the welcome drink. “That’s good. It would’ve been a bit rubbish for me to nearly have died and got nothing to show for it.”

She grinned broadly and elbowed him in the ribs, almost making him slosh his tea. “Well, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Think of how much more powerful you are now!”

Lysander gave her a somewhat wry look, rolling his eyes. “If I have to have a near-death experience every mission then either I’ll be immortal by the end of the year or I’ll have quit and gone back to being a courtesan. At least that way when I get screwed I get paid and sometimes something out of it for myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	5. Prologue 05: A Righteous Flame

Just outside of Aleport, in sight of the walls but not seen himself, Lysander scouted a location that he would remain unseen, yet be able to observe the road.

It was a simple enough mission, assigned to a novice yet skilled and clever Rogue; attempt to locate a known smuggler and intercept the cargo he was moving. Usually he was let alone because one could track him to bigger and more lucrative targets, but he had outlived his usefulness with the last items he had taken. Thusly, Lysander moved silently through the tall grass to find the best vantage point; his mission was to observe and report, and only interfere if it looked as though he and his cargo might get away.

A strange scent caught his attention and he tensed; blood and other offal, and he looked around to ensure that he hadn’t stumbled into something dangerous. It was the reverse; a mangled coeurl corpse, and after a moment of revulsion at the messiness at it all, realized that it had been killed for its pelt.

“Bloody poachers,” he snarled, “seven hells take them all.”

As he was about to shift his position it was now a sound that demanded his attention, and his stomach sank. Kittens. Checking the brush nearby he found five young coeurl kittens, looking a little scared and very hungry. Shit. He couldn't leave them, but…

Risking breaking his cover, he stood up and scanned his surroundings all the way around to the horizon. Yes, he might have enough time. Scooping up the smallest one, he gave the other four a quick scratch to reassure them and ran back to Aleport as fast as he could, the kitten digging its claws into his chest for support. It didn't hurt much, as his shirt was taking the brunt of it, but he didn't slow his pace until he skidded to a stop in front of the Yellowjacket guards.

As he tried to catch his breath one of the guards saw the animal in his arms and leveled his weapon at him. “Filthy poacher!”

“I- What!?” Lysander was both confused and indignant and gave the yellow-clad guard a look of frustration. “I found this one and its siblings, its mother was poached, thank you very much!”

“Ah-ha! So you admit it!”

The smirk of triumph that the guard wore made Lysander groan loudly in frustration. “By the Twelve, Jacke is right about you lot. Just take me to your captain or whatever.”

Still smirking victoriously, the guard left his partner to guard the gate while he led Lysander to the captain’s office. “Sir! Caught a poacher! He walked right up to us!” the guard announced, throwing an energetic salute.

The captain, a very large Roegadyn man, looked Lysander up and down and snorted with amusement. “Not with those daggers he isn’t. You’re one of Jacke’s boys, then?”

Nodding, Lysander shifted his grip on the kitten, who was beginning to squirm out of boredom. He scratched its ears, settling it a bit. “Correct. I was sent to track a smuggler, but in seeking a place to lie in wait I found this little one and his siblings, his mother had been killed for her pelt. I… I just couldn't leave them there to die."

With a thoughtful stare, the captain looked at him for a moment, then at the kitten, then nodded. “Strange that the poacher didn’t get the kittens as well, there’s a large black market for them as pets. I’ll assemble a squad and you’ll show us where you found ‘em; you get your smuggler, we’ll take care of dealing with this crime.”

Exhaling with relief, Lysander nodded and smiled. “Thank you.” He continued to pet the kitten, who purred happily in his arms, and as soon as the squad was present led them to where he had found the others. To his further relief, the other four were still there, and they were secured while other Yellowjackets searched the area for clues. After a few minutes, Lysander glanced at the road and saw two figures traveling down it in his direction. Squinting, he recognized one of them as his target and immediately dropped to the ground, careful not to hurt the kitten still in his arms. When the others gave him a funny look he returned it with a glare.

“Get down, you fools,” he hissed, “he’ll see you! Hurry!”

The captain returned his glare but gestured for everyone to comply and flattened himself next to Lysander, looking up the road. “Normally I take offense to someone else commanding my people, but that bastard is one we’re after, too.”

“He’s yours, the cargo is mine,” Lysander replied, not having taken his eyes off of his quarry, “I was supposed to watch and report, but that cart has way more in it than earlier reports told. He’s doing a runner.”

The captain agreed. “We got word that he would be coming through, but not with all of that. Looks like he realized he’s been sold out and is taking a ship elsewhere. Not on my watch, he isn’t.”

Carefully, Lysander put the kitten to the side, still gently petting it so it wouldn't make any noise. Much like a coeurl, he watched, almost without breathing, waiting for his quarry to approach. Then, still catlike, he pushed himself up off of the ground a little to crawl forward, approaching close enough that he could strike without warning. The cart pulled by two chocobos slowly rolled along the road. His target, the Highlander male, was driving the cart, the other was a Miqo’te guard. He had only one chance at this; he couldn't risk him bolting, and it was too dangerous to attempt such a thing in Aleport proper.

From the numerous pleats at the bottom of his shirt, Lysander extracted a throwing knife without looking. He had a rather scary number of knives and daggers hidden about his person, and only he knew the exact number. Holding it delicately, he did a final round of calculations, stood up, and threw. It embedded itself neatly and deeply into the neck of the guard, who was too surprised to scream. Lysander was already moving the moment that the knife had left his fingertips, sprinting and leaping off of the top of the embankment that overlooked the road.

The driver turned to see what was wrong with the guard just in time to see Lysander make his jump, and immediately realized what was going on. He was a half a second too slow, however, as the Rogue had successfully landed on the bench and used his momentum to tackle the driver and send them both sprawling into the dirt. The driver tried to get away but froze when he felt cold, sharp steel pressed against his throat.

“My orders were to bite back some baubles you nicked,” Lysander growled, “they said nothing about you.”

The man recognized the implication, as well as his slang, and swallowed in fear. “Bugger me, you’re one of them Rogues.”

“Yer a clever mort, pity you didn’t use it for better means,” Lysander grinned, seeing the Yellowjackets run up, holding the kittens.

“Well done, lad,” the captain chuckled, petting the kitten that Lys had been holding earlier, “we'll take it from here.”

Lysander was about to stand when the man stared at the animal in the captain’s arms. “So that’s where they went!” he blurted out, realizing too late to what he had just confessed, and felt the pressure of the dagger increase.

“You…”

It was one word, just a single syllable, but the hate and heat in it made the man’s blood run cold. Quickly, the captain stepped in. “He needs to tried properly, lad, justice will be served. Let us take care of it from here.”

Shaking with rage, he obeyed, putting away the dagger and taking the kitten, needing something to calm himself. “I’m sorry, little one,” he whispered into the soft fur, “you’re an orphan now. Just like me.”

The guard on the cart was still alive, but not happy, and both of them were apprehended and dragged into Aleport while two of the guards attempted to guide the cart from out of the middle of the road. The kittens were taken to the captain’s office, and Lysander followed, not yet ready to relinquish his temporary companion, who mewed at him and patted his arm.

“He’s hungry,” Lysander supplied, “but hopefully… Good, looks like they’re on solids now,” he commented after checking the kitten's teeth. One guard volunteered to go to the inn to get some fish for them and dashed out the door.

Sighing and sitting down near the other four, he laughed when they all swarmed him for warmth and comfort. The guard returned with plenty of fresh fish to satisfy, and Lysander's sharp blades easily and cleanly sliced it into small pieces for them to eat. He was going to get up and get the cargo that he’d been sent to obtain, but found himself trapped under five happy, purring coeurl kittens.

“Um, I think I’ll be here a while,” he chuckled, and reclined comfortably. The small one that he’d been holding curled up on his chest and dozed off, and he couldn't help taking a nap himself.

An hour or so later the captain returned, waking Lysander, who felt a little silly, but was waved off. “You kept them out of our hair while we followed up on a few things. I’ve got what you came for, so you’re free to go when you like.”

Lysander caught the hint that they would like him gone as quickly as possible, as though they were grateful for what he’d done, there was still no small amount of rivalry, and even hostility, between the Rogues and the Yellowjackets. He got up carefully, shifting aside the kittens to stand up and smooth out his clothes.

“Will they be okay?” he asked, giving them one last look.

The captain shrugged and nodded at them. “We’ll figure something out, find them good homes. I recall that some are trying to train them as mounts, might reach out to those people as well.”

Sighing, Lysander turned to leave, and then felt a swat at his ankle and heard a petulant meow. He turned and looked down to see the smallest kitten, his companion of most of the day, looking up at him and flicking his tail. When Lysander didn’t respond immediately, he sat down and continued to give the tall Hyur an amber-yellow stare, ears and whiskers forward.

“I can’t, little one, they won’t let me.”

“Nyao!”

“I’m serious!”

“Nyaaaooo!”

“Look, I do want to take you with me but they’ll have a fit about it.”

“Mrrrrr-h’h!” trilled and huffed the kitten, somehow looking insulted. Lysander shot a helpless glance at the captain, who burst into laughter.

“I think he’s taken a shine to you. Ahh, nothing to be done for it, you did save their lives, and it will be hard enough to get them all good homes. He’s yours. B’sides, he’s half a Rogue anyway, all sneaky and with built-in daggers.”

With a smile, Lysander stooped and scooped the animal into his arms, who burst into a happy purr immediately. “Y’know, we’re both orphans, so I guess I’m your older brother now. Since I don’t always use the second half of my name, why don’t you use it? How’s ‘Xander’ sound?” The purr got louder, though that might just have been from the chin scritchies. “Well, little brother, it’s time to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	6. Prologue 06: A Wounded Flame

Like he had during so many missions before, Lysander strolled the paths and docks of yet another port town in La Noscea. This reason was twofold: that the Rogues Guild had jurisdiction only within certain areas of this territory, and that a fair amount of the crimes that they investigated were within those towns.  
  
In a rare instance, he was not accompanied by Xander, who usually followed him everywhere, but when on a mission, the kitten was left with the guild. Dressed like any other dock worker, he blended in with the crowd. An impressive feat, given his distinctive hair and height for a Hyur. But then, he was quite good at being a Rogue, despite only having been one a few years.  
  
He liked missions that involved the trafficking of persons. Not because he wanted to see innocent people suffer, rather, it was the opposite: items and trinkets were just objects, things, and retrieving them could take as long as it took. But freeing people and punishing those who tried to profit off of them, oh, Lysander took delight in making those involved pay the consequences. Further, seeing the hope and relief in the eyes of the rescued, well, he was no hero, but moments like that did make him wonder…  
  
Carrying some timber with the bored air of someone in no hurry because they got paid the same either way, he casually scrutinized passers-by for the telltale signal of the traffickers: lavender-colored gloves. Something innocuous that anyone would overlook in the colorful sea of garments that ebbed and flowed in the crowd. Unless, of course, you knew to look for it. In the same way, Lysander and his fellow Rogues went unnoticed, but they all recognized each other no matter their disguise; the eyes and posture of a Rogue spoke of a perilous sort, albeit quietly.  
  
There.  
  
Lysander stepped aside to put down his load, sigh, and rub his shoulder, just another laborer taking a break. This gave him the opportunity to watch where his target went, and a corner of his lips flickered a smile when the large man went into one of the inns. Lysander rubbed his neck and stretched his arms over his head. In moments, a Lalafell sat down next to him, apparently borrowing him for a bit of shade.  
  
“Y’saw one, Lys?” asked the diminutive man, taking a swig from a canteen.  
  
Lysander made an affirmative noise in his throat, staring off at nothing in particular. “He went into the inn directly ahead,” he replied in a low tone.  
  
The other person nodded and looked into his canteen with a sigh. “Damn, dry already, I’ve gone through more water here than I have Ul’dah,” he remarked in a normal voice, and Lysander looked over at him, shrugging with a smile.  
  
“Aye, same here, something about the sun just dries one up. I’m looking forward to a cold ale tonight myself.”  
  
The Lalafell put away his canteen and nodded. “You’ve more patience than I do, I need something to wet my throat now. Safe travels.” He got up and strode to the inn, and Lysander remained where he was, looking for all the world like a worker slacking off while away from his supervisor’s angry glare. In truth, however, he was keeping watch while Underfoot had a look around inside the inn.  
  
After a while, Lysander knew he would have to move so as not to be suspicious, and he stood up to stretch again, hiding a grin when a female Miqo’te seemed to materialize next to him. “Good eye, lad,” she said, for his ears only as she sat and fanned herself, “the poor coves are there alright.”  
  
Lysander didn’t give any obvious sign of acknowledgement, but hummed again in his throat, a sound she heard clearly, and he adjusted his load to pick it up securely again. “We strike tonight?” he murmured, hiding his question behind trying to balance the timber on his shoulder again.  
  
“Yup. Here, at dark.” She continued to fan herself with an inexpensive paper fan that somehow hadn’t dissolved from the humidity or continual spray off of the ocean.  
  
Humming a song to himself, he walked away, apparently to wherever he was supposed to go, but he instead returned to the place he had picked up the wood in the first place, put it back, and vanished. Nobody noticed his presence, although the person in charge of the supplies there was now perplexed, as he had just come up short several pieces of lumber, and upon recounting everything, the numbers matched up correctly. He had clearly been in the sun too long, it was time to hit the pub for a drink…  
  
The shadows grew both long and dangerous, slowly being populated with dagger-wielding sorts that managed to avoid being noticed by everybody. Except for each other, of course. The same Miqo’te appeared again next to him, and he couldn't hide a smile; nobody was as good as V’Kebbe at being hidden, and he hoped to study from her and learn it as well.  
  
“Right then,” said Jacke, the next to appear from nowhere, “y’know yer marks, an’ y’know where t’ take the coves.”  
  
Oh Twelve, Lysander was usually confident and suave, but the guild leader always left him feeling fluttery. One day he would finally have the courage to say something, but for now, they were on a mission. Save those thoughts for later. Lysander realized that he was smiling in a rather silly, wistful manner, and was glad for the darkness that hid it. That accent, the things it did for him…  
  
Silently, they entered the inn, attracting no notice as they filtered toward the rooms to which they had been assigned. The Yellowjackets were aware of the operation but not the details, even though they were operating jointly; they would round up and arrest the slavers once their prisoners had been moved to safety. Lysander strode with his rolling dancer’s walk to his room, counting in his mind the time that they would all at once free the potential slaves.  
  
Lysander paused at the door, listening carefully. Underfoot and another had carefully spiked the drinks of the traffickers all afternoon, and by now they were surely asleep from it. There was no sound. Good. The door opened and closed, but its occupants didn’t notice. He stepped aside and looked around, taking in everything and looking for the guard.  
  
He wasn’t there…  
  
Frowning, Lysander swept the room with a much more careful gaze, and saw that it was only inhabited by the prisoners. This could be bad; the guard could have passed out elsewhere, but he could also be quite awake and on his way. The clock in his head was ticking down, and he had no time to waste. Going to the family huddled together in fear, he made enough noise to get their attention but not startle.  
  
“It’s okay,” he reassured softly, “I’m here to help. I and the others are here to rescue you. We’re all leaving in another minute.”  
  
He gave them a warm, soft smile, the one he always used when trying to convince others of something. They weren’t swayed yet, and watched him warily.  
  
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” the man asked, pushing his wife and children behind him, “we’ve been punished already for trying to run before.”  
  
Lysander knew it wouldn't be easy, but also not hard. With his usual charm, a knife leapt into his fingers with a flick of his wrist, then disappeared just as quickly with another. “That’s because you didn't have me, mate. I’ll keep you all safe. I promise.”  
  
This somehow convinced them, and they got to their feet as Lysander went to and opened the door. The way was clear, and he saw other Rogues doing the same. Perfect, the mission was going well. He beckoned to them and led the way out through a back door, which saw little other traffic and was away from prying eyes. The groups were staggered in order to avoid suspicion and notice, and Lysander’s was one of the last. He led them through the mostly-empty and moonlit streets to the dock with the ship that would carry them to Limsa, and therefore safety.  
  
They were nearly there when a loud voice shattered the silence, and Lysander spun around to see a very angry Roegadyn running at them, a large battleaxe held in lavender-colored gloves.  
  
Shit.  
  
“Leg it!” Lysander shouted to the family behind him, “follow them and get to the ship with the others, I’ll hold him off!” He sprinted off without waiting for an acknowledgement or further thought, other than an inner voice yelling at himself that he wasn’t a damn hero. Drawing a throwing knife from the many that were hidden about himself, he threw without accuracy, hoping to distract but not expecting to do much.  
  
To both of their surprise, the knife lodged firmly into the Roe’s thigh, slowing him, but making him angrier.  
  
_Shit_.  
  
Tapping into skills both old and new, Lysander danced, moving around and harrying his opponent, trying to find an opening while dodging that giant axe. He had to be lucky several times, but the other man had to be lucky only once. As always, his mind was empty of thought when he danced like this, and his inner monologue no longer scolded him, as it had now become a sustained scream of panic.  
  
His daggers bit and cut, and though they drew blood his opponent only got angrier. Eventually, the marauder got lucky and Lysander stumbled. As he tried to regain his footing, the Roe brought his axe down in a powerful arc. Reacting quickly, Lysander raised both daggers to block the attack, realizing as he did so how futile it was.  
  
His luck hadn’t completely run out, though, as the axe bounced off of the smaller blades, shattering one outright and chipping the other. This knocked Lysander off-balance again, and his arms were almost numbed from the strike. The Roe saw his opening and attacked again, slicing recklessly, throwing his weight into it.  
  
_Now_  his luck had completely run out. He gasped even as his breath seized in his throat as the weapon cut him open. Pain shot through him, and he suddenly felt himself go cold. Oh gods, this was it… He wasn’t going to die just yet, though, he gambled one last time, lunging forward to plunge both daggers (technically, one and a half) into his assailant’s throat, embedding them all the way to the hilt.  
  
Tasting blood as the world spun around him, he fell backward and barely felt himself hit the ground. Pain and shock overwhelmed his senses, and the darkness in which he had earlier hidden claimed him.  
  
…  
  
Fuzzy. Soft. Warm…  
  
Lysander twitched as he awoke, feeling weak and dizzy. Something familiar was pressed against his cheek, purring with contentment. Xander…  
  
As he opened his eyes and looked around, waiting for his vision to clear, two figures slowly resolved themselves, but it was their voices that reached him with clarity first, and one of them the one that did such good and bad things to him.  
  
“L’sander, yer finally awake! I knew a perilous cove like ye wouldn't be knocked down fer long.” Lysander’s vision had cleared enough for him to see the guild leader, and his smile. Oh Twelve, he was glad that he was lying down because his body couldn't support him any longer now. He tried to say something, but realized that there was nothing that he could say that wasn’t stupid. Still, he had nearly died, hadn’t he, and he would have done so without telling Jacke what he really felt.  
  
V’Kebbe hopped to her feet from the chair upon which she had been sitting, calling over her shoulder that she was going to fetch the doctor. Yes! Perfect! It was just the two of them, he could finally say it, what he ached to tell him…  
  
He tried to work moisture back into his mouth as Jacke chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. “You slept four days, we were worried you’d not wake.” He nodded to the furry animal on the pillow. “Yer little brother’s not left yer side, either. You’ve a good family here.”  
  
Lysander felt his cheeks grow hot, feeling a rush of delighted warmth at Jacke’s words. True, he had said “we,” so it wasn't just him, but it meant that he had cared as well, and this gave him hope. Jacke gestured at something on the table next to the bed, and Lysander saw his daggers, or, rather, what was left of them.  
  
“Fear not, me lad, we’ll have stabbers in yer fambles again soon enough. New ones, as while those saved yer life they’ve served their purpose.” Lysander forgot how to breathe for a moment when Jacke took his hand. That warm, gentle touch was just as he’d imagined but never expected to experience. “Though with how carved up ye got that may be a while,” he observed, noticing the bandaged cuts on Lysander's fingers from where the broken shards of his daggers had scraped him.  
  
He was right there, right there! All he had to do was say something, it was just the two of them. Jacke was holding his hand, he just had to squeeze back or kiss it or, or… He would never have this chance again, he had to...  
  
Smiling weakly, Lysander nodded. He couldn't do it…  
  
Jacke returned the smile and patted his shoulder. “Rest well, me dimber mort, ye’ll be skulking in tha’ darkmans again soon enough.”  
  
As he left Lysander leaned back into the pillow and blinked back tears. Damn,  _damn_! Stupid  _coward_! He had been there, they had been alone, Jacke had been holding his hand, all he had to do was tell him what he felt. Cursing himself silently, Lysander clenched a fist and gritted his teeth. Fool! Coward!  
  
...But then, he knew all that already. He wasn’t brave, he wasn’t a hero. Besides, Jacke deserved better anyway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	7. Prologue 07: A Healing Flame

“Just _tell_ him already, you doofus.”

Lysander glared over at the other rouge for her unneeded advice, and she only grinned in reply, her tongue sticking out from between her teeth as she smirked at him.  “You know I can’t,” he growled, shifting his shoulders a little for better comfort, “he’s probably not interested and…he deserves better than me anyway- OW!”  He glared at her again, as she had firmly knuckle-tapped him atop the head, putting her hands on her hips, glaring right back.

“Stuff it, Lys, either tell him, or get over him and quit moping.  Yeah, he’s hot, and he knows it, we all know it.  So just tell him already, it’s better than watching you pine over him like this.”

“You don’t _have_ to be here, Risu,” Lysander huffed, poking at the bandage around his middle.  The other rogue shifted her position to fold her arms across her chest and give him a look of “oh really?”

“You’re just grumpy ‘cause you’re stuck in bed another week while that heals.”

“I’m grumpy for a lot of reasons, thank you very much.  I never asked for an older sibling.”

“And you’ve got it anyway!  Lucky you!  I’m just spiffy like that,” she giggled, striding away to go fill a cup of tea for him.

He sighed and shook his head as he watched her work; the tall, blonde, Hyur female had been in the guild for quite some time, and had taken on the unofficial role of older sister to pretty much everyone, regardless of their age or skill.  Something about her put him in mind of, well, him, and he idly wondered if she might be a distant cousin.  It was possible, he didn’t know if he had any other family, and after the Calamity, it was likely that any records had been lost, but he had no information to back it up as she never talked of her past.  It didn’t really matter, he was the last of his line and that was that.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked, not rudely, just genuinely curious.  She returned with a full cup of hot tea and helped him sit up, pulling him forward and adjusting the pillows to support him, as the injury that he bore precluded him from doing so on his own.  Smiling warmly, she pressed the cup into both of his hands.

“No, I don’t, actually.  Things’re quiet after that last mission, so I’ve got some downtime.  Seriously, you’re the talk of the guild right now, and other places.  You could have run, but you still chose to fight, and even when he damn near killed you, you found the strength to take him down with you.  Damn, Lys, you are a scary man.  …We actually thought we’d lost you for a little while.”  She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a serious look.  “Jacke was worried, too.  He didn’t show it, but I’ve a good eye for that in people.  Just saying…”

Lysander paused partway though his drink and stared into it, swirling the liquid thoughtfully.  “…He was?”

“Yeah.  He’s a good man.”

“…He is…”  There was an awkward silence as he finished the drink and handed back the empty cup.  She took it wordlessly and set it aside, then prodded his bandages.

“Looks like those need changing.  Let’s get you in a bath, I’ll help you get cleaned up and then the medic can have a look at it and put on a fresh dressing.”  It had been a couple of days since he had awoken, and he definitely felt the urge to get clean as soon as possible.

Nodding, Lysander gritted his teeth against the pain of movement as she supported him through most of it.  He took a moment to catch his breath as his legs swung over the edge of the bed, and then nodded again for her to help him to his feet, an arm over her shoulders as she put an arm around his waist, guiding him over to the bath.  There was nothing to remove save for the bandages, as he’d been completely undressed to deal with his wounds, but he found no embarrassment in being nude around her.  Likewise, she didn’t seem to care either, not even giving him lecherous or leering looks like he had expected, she just examined him professionally, checking his injuries and health.

“Right, let’s get you in there.  I’ve got you, just rest your weight on me.”  She continued to take his weight as he eased himself into the hot water, and he gasped with relief and satisfaction at the tingle it produced on his skin.  Sitting on the edge, just in the water but not submerged, he assisted Risu with removing the stained bandages, trying not to re-open the wound that had finally closed.  He stared at it once it was revealed, suddenly feeling dizzy.  “Whoa!  Lys!  You okay?” she asked, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“…Yeah, I…  I just…  Shit, how am I still alive?!”  He continued to stare at the crescent-shaped cut that ran from the bottom of his sternum all the way across to the top of his right hip.  It was as wide as his thumb and wasn’t ragged, indicating a fast, clean cut that thankfully hadn’t cut too deeply.  The fight came back to him in a flash, and he recalled the strike that had felled him, producing another wave of dizziness that left him a bit limp.  Barely in time, Risu caught and supported him while he collected himself, as he pressed a hand to his forehead, staring off at nothing.  “I…  I should be dead, mate, gods, no wonder I feel wiped out.”

“You sorta were for a minute or two.  We were able to slap a fast heal on you to keep you from bleeding out any further, but…”  She shook her head and took a look for herself at his injury.  “Not going to lie, I thought we’d lost you, we all did.”

She had to move quickly again to catch him, as the dizziness took him a second time and he nearly went completely into the water.  “Twelve, I…don’t remember anything after my daggers broke, only that I had one last surge of anger and, I don’t know, righteousness?  I just couldn’t die and have him live to hurt others…”

Risu had grabbed a towel and was very carefully cleaning the wound, ensuring that there was nothing that could cause infection or irritation later, but also trying not to open it back up again.  She handed him another one, which he dipped into the water and then lathered with soap.  They took their time, as like she had said, there was nothing to occupy them anyway, this wasn’t something that should be rushed, and anyroad, he was enjoying it.  He knew he’d be trapped in that bed for at least another week, so he was determined to enjoy every moment he could out of it.

Eventually he got to work on his hair, but Risu swatted his hands away to take care of it herself.  “Relax, I’ve got this.  No joke, I’ve kinda wanted to play with your hair for ages, it’s just so _nice_.  Like, braid it or something.  …You okay?”  She paused in her work when he twitched at her remark.

“…It was mother’s color.  And I’ve not worn it braided in a long time.  We both wore it the same…”

Wrinkling her nose, Risu was about to ask him to clarify, when the pieces suddenly assembled into a rather large and sad picture.  “…Oh.  Well, is there anything you _would_ like me to do?  Or just wash and brush it out?”

“Just that, please,” he replied, suddenly downcast.  Risu nodded and considered inquiring further, but immediately discarded the idea.  She didn’t talk much about her history, either, and from what she’d gathered from what he _had_ said, she wasn’t the least bit surprised.  Once again silence took over, but it was thoughtful and almost meditative, not sullen or awkward.

After some time, Risu nodded again, pulling the brush neatly through his hair without resistance.  She tied his hair back with the usual bit of ribbon he used (it was getting old and a bit tattered, he really needed to replace it!) and stood up, grabbing a towel.  “Here, dry yourself as best you can, I’ll grab the medic and we can get you bandaged up again before we stuff you back in bed.”

“Ta, luv,” he replied, still sounding a little distant and tired.  He wasn’t sure how long she was gone, but it wasn’t terribly so, and the medic had apparently been waiting for them to finish, as the large Roegadyn woman had a bag full of supplies over her shoulder as she strode toward him.

“Well, you appear to be healing well,” she commented, carefully poking at a few areas around his wound, “and you aren’t in any pain?  Good, we just need to make sure that you eat properly and get plenty of fluids to replace what you lost.  Very well, Risu, attend me.”

Yet again he wasn’t bothered by being the only one unclothed around others, even two females, but he was comfortable with his own body, and he’d been a courtesan for a few years.  It was just a state of being that he was in sometimes.  And further, even if he _did_ have any physical interest in either of them, good luck getting it up right now!  For now, he tried to relax and comply with instructions as medicines were applied, and then fresh dressings.

One final inspection of her work and the medic nodded.  “Good, those should hold for a few more days, just keep them dry and clean, we’ll remove them the next time you bathe and see how you progress from there.  In the meantime, let’s get you back to bed, young man.”

He would normally be annoyed at being called that, as he _was_ in his mid-twenties, but he didn’t have the energy to be cheeky in return.  The medic assisted him to his feet and supported him the way that Risu had, and he looked about for the other Rogue, as she had suddenly gone missing.  Ah, there she was, she had replaced the sheets.  It made no sense to get clean only to return to dirty bedding.

“Um, this is going to be a tad difficult,” he said, realizing how much effort it would be to get back into bed, “help me sit down and I can-  Gah!”  Blushing the color of his hair, he grabbed the medic’s shoulders for support as she outright picked him up and put him back.  “I-  That-!”  He huffed a little and looked away, his cheeks still crimson.  “That wasn’t necessary, I could have done that.”

“And you’d have taken all day, boy,” the medic laughed, fists on her hips, “which I don’t have.  I’ve got other patients to whom I must attend and I don’t have the time to play about with appeasing your ego.  Just be glad that you’re not hurt worse than you are and that you have the mobility that you do.”

Sighing, Lysander nodded and got comfortable as Risu pulled the sheets back over him.  “I…just hate feeling useless.  I don’t like people having to take care of me.”

“Stuff it, Lys,” Risu giggled, “you risked your life to save others, you’ve earned a bit of pampering and doting.  Pass out a few, I’m going to pop down to the Bismarck and get you something to eat.  Oh shut _up_ ,” she laughed when she saw him beginning to protest, “not many of us at the guild can cook, and it’s just easier to get some decent carry-out from there.  B’sides, like we both said, you earned it, and you need something decent to replace what you lost.  Back in a bit!”

Grinning, she jogged out the door, followed by the medic, who gave him a stern but friendly look and a reminder to rest and take it easy.  Xander, who had disappeared for reasons unknown (likely food of his own) returned and curled up on the pillow next to him, licking his nose before settling down and purring.  The presence of his pet had a rather somnambulant effect on him, and he was asleep in only a couple of minutes.

Later that week, the day after his second bath and changing of his bandages again, Lysander had cajoled Risu into supplying him with his trousers so he could at least try to get about on his own.  He promised to not to go too far, but it didn’t bother him to sit up anymore, and he needed to stretch his legs.  Already knowing the answer, he inquired about his shirt, and felt that sickening wave of dizziness again when he saw just how much of it was covered in blood (all of it his!), as well as the gigantic rip that had nearly torn the garment in two.  They were getting him a replacement, it was the least they could do, but his trousers had survived, and they’d succeeded in getting the blood off of _those_.

With a hand on the wall to steady himself, Lysander walked slowly, already feeling better for being able to be up and about.  He hated being bedridden and useless.  Still, this was more exhausting than he had expected.  Sighing with irritation, he turned around to go back the way he came and find a chair to sit in, but the moment his hand left the wall and he was supporting his own weight, the dizziness crashed into him, and the room spun without warning, the floor coming up quickly to meet him.  Instinctively, he went limp, knowing that trying to catch himself would be folly, but was surprised to _not_ hit the ground.

“I’ve got ye, L’sander. Ye nearly took a hell of a fall.”  Lysander felt his pulse skip, throat tighten, and cheeks grow hot.  Jacke!  “Are ye alright?  Can ye stand?”  Unsteadily, Lysander looked up into those bright blue eyes and completely forgot how to speak.  Oh Twelve, they had granted him a gift, a second chance, he was right there, he was in Jacke’s arms and all he had to do was say something or kiss him or, or, just something!  _Anything!_

Again, all Lysander could do was weakly nod, and he fought back embarrassed yet grateful tears as he leaned on the guild leader for support.  Arms around Jacke’s neck, he tried not to completely collapse into him while he caught his breath and got his feet back under him.  He could smell his cologne and feel his heart beat, his hands were warm and strong around him...  What he wouldn’t give for this moment to never end.

“I’m…  I can…  Thanks…” he finally managed, unable to look directly at him any longer.

Jacke adjusted his grip to put an arm around Lysander’s waist and pull his arm across his shoulders, holding his wrist.  “I’ve got ye, L’sander, c’mon, let’s get you back, it’s admirable ta try ta get up and about, but you’ve earned yer rest.”

Lysander felt dizzy again, almost unable to believe his luck.  He still had a chance to say something, but feeling Jacke’s hands on his bare skin like that, having him so close, his mind was in a tangle, and he felt a warm rush of pleasure at the same time a cold stab of fear lanced through his veins.  What if Jacke said no?  If he pushed him away and distanced himself after Lysander had opened up his heart like that?  By the time they got back to the bed Lysander had almost completely sagged, already defeated.

Risu saw them approach and crossed the room in only a few strides.  “Lys!  Are you hurt?” she asked, looping his other arm across her own shoulders.  He flicked a sad glance at Jacke, which the other man didn’t notice, but Risu did, and she gave him a look of understanding.  Together they got him back to his bed and into it, and he sighed with exhaustion as he flopped back against the pillow.

“…Thanks.  And sorry, for being a bother.”

“Yer not a bother, L’sander,” Jacke grinned, “yer a bene sort what just needs ta rest a bit.  But if you rip yerself open the medic’ll mill you herself!”

Nodding, Lysander bit his lip to hold back tears as Risu pulled the sheet back over him and regarded Jacke with a curious look.  “What’s up?  Didn’t expect to catch you over here, something happen?”

“A bit twofold,” Jacke replied, shifting his weight to one leg as he nodded to Risu, “came ta check on tha poor bedridden lad, and there’s been another bauble cloyed what needs biting back.  Yer one of our best at skulking, Risu, need ta send ye and V’Kebbe out to ta whiddle what more ye can.”

Squeezing Lysander’s hand, Risu gave the “bedridden lad” a smile.  “I’ll get on with that, back later, you rest, okay?”

Once more, one last chance, just a few precious seconds alone!  Jacke watched Risu leave and nearly followed, but he paused when Lysander reached out and grabbed his wrist.  Once more again, that blue stare was too much for him, and he again lost his resolve.  Twice he tried to say something, but couldn’t find the right words, and let go.  “I…  Thank you.”

“Sleep, me dimber damber,” Jacke chuckled, “we’ll have stabbers back in yer fambles soon enough.”

_It isn’t daggers that I want in my fingers, it’s the touch of your hands, to caress your face and run them through your hair, making you give me that smile that always makes me so weak in the knees…  But I can’t tell you.  I’m not brave enough, because I’m terrified that you’ll reject me, and that’s worse than silently staying by your side.  And anyroad, I know that you deserve better than me…_

He sighed again and felt himself start to drift off, but relaxed a little when Xander curled up on his chest, purring into his face, a black-and-orange loaf of fuzzy bread.  Scratching his pet’s ears, he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	8. Prologue 08: A Wistful Flame

Lysander had finally recovered enough to move about on his own, for the most part, but he still was warned to be careful. He heeded this guidance, as while he ached to get out and about, he also felt the ache of healing every time he exerted himself too far. Today was a simple jaunt; downstairs, outside, and onto one of the less-used piers by the Rogues’ Guild. It was sunny out, and warmer than it had been for a while, two things that lifted his spirits immensely. Once outside and in a nice spot, he carefully sat down, spread out a blanket onto the wooden planks that had been polished smooth by years of travelling feet, took off his shirt, and flopped onto his back. Xander had followed him out and curled up on the blanket next to him, tucked into the curve of his waist and purring happily.

Hands folded under his head, he lay there for quite some time until the familiar footfalls of Risu made him smile. “Hey, mate. They still assigning me a sitter?”

“Nah,” she replied, setting something down and flopping next to him as she scratched Xander’s ears, “I figured you could use a nosh and a drink. It’s really nice out today, figured we could share it.” Grinning, he accepted her offer as she accepted his hand, pulling him into a sitting position. “Not quite as warm as your home, I imagine, but closer.”

“And more humid,” he replied, carving off a slice of cheese for himself from the wedge she’d brought, “but I can’t complain at all. It’s been sunny enough lately, but the breeze still had teeth. Probably came straight down from Coerthas. And don’t give me the geographic impossibilities of that,” he huffed, waving the knife at her, “I know the wind and land and sea here. I’m just making a point.”

With a giggle, Risu pulled a loaf of crusty bread from her bag and set it down, rummaging around to pull out two carefully-packed wineglasses, followed by several bottles of wine. “Dear gods this was heavy. Well! Let’s make this a lighter return trip for me, shall we?” Lysander eagerly took her up on this offer as she opened one bottle and poured. “Hey, what _is_ Ul’dah like? I mean _really_ like? I’ve visited a couple of times, but you lived there.”

His face immediately fell as he put the glass to his lips, pulling it away to leave them still dry. “…I’ve…not been back. In a very long time.”

Studying his expression and body language carefully, she rolled some mental dice to see if this was one of those “it hurts but I’d like to talk and get it out of my system” silences, or if it was the “I’d rather not talk about it, please” silences that tended to become awkward ones shortly after. Adding the data of what she knew of him as well as his current mood she pushed ahead, gambling that he wanted to converse.

“Why’d you leave? I mean, if you don’t wanna say anything I completely get it, but I know bugger-all about your past and, well…” She sipped her wine and ripped off the heel of the loaf, chewing thoughtfully. “The few things I know about your history is that apparently your mother was a Weaver and your father part of the Immortal Flames, and that you trained in damn near every form of music and dance that Ul’dah could offer, but other than those few snippets I don’t know a damn thing.”

She took a longer drink, staring off at nothing in particular. “I never wanted to pry, y’know, we’ve all got secrets, and that’s okay. We all have something we wanna hide. But...” Giving him a sad look, she shrugged. “This seems to be eating you up _bad_. Every time your family or Ul’dah comes up you snap shut like a merchant’s coin purse.” Having finished her piece she left him in peace, chewing and drinking quietly, listening to the soft sounds he made as he also ate and drank.

“…It was my fault.”

“…Pardon?”

“That they’re gone now. It’s all my fault.”

Risu gave him a perplexed look but didn’t contradict him. “I… Sorry, sweetie, but I don’t quite follow. Hey, talk to me, sounds like you _really_ need to get this off of your chest.” She topped off both of their glasses and cut off a slice of roast beef from the slab she’d brought. He accepted it gratefully and ate the slice slowly, thinking and ordering his thoughts.

“I… We…” Sighing, he shook his head, sipped his wine, and started again. “I was fifteen. We weren’t rich or anything, but we were doing well enough. Mother was skilled at her craft and made lovely, sturdy garments. Even just simple cotton clothes were made with care and dedication, and she treated every customer with respect and courtesy. Father was a Brass Blade. He could have been part of the city guard, but he opted to be deployed where he could. Partially because it was better money than a guard, but also because he enjoyed leading soldiers.”

Chuckling, Lysander shook his head again, smiling for the first time. “He refused officer commissions so many times. He was a sergeant and that was that. He always laughed that he worked for a living, and nobody was going to pin bars on him!” The smile slipped a little, but it was still warm. “He had some combat experience. I never asked how or why, but he had a rather nasty scar on one cheek, as well as a few others that look like they’d been rather serious. Fortunately, they made him dashing and not disfigured, but I assumed that if it was important he’d tell me. Otherwise, it was none of my business.”

He held out his glass for a refill and took a chunk of bread that she’d ripped free for him. “Mother and I kept the household. We… We would braid each other’s hair in the morning. Hers so it wouldn’t get in the way while she worked, mine so it wouldn’t get in the way while I danced.” The smile was still warm, but a bit sadder, and he bit the corner of his lip to fight back tears. “I was a rubbish cook. Damn near every time I tried to help I’d burn something, or myself, or almost slice myself open. I tried, I really bloody did, but something about it just didn’t click for me. I could manage other household chores and the shopping, so I at least contributed _something_ to the household.”

The smile faded completely and his shoulders drooped. “And then one day mother got sick. Father was deployed out somewhere far, we’d not heard from him in a few days, but we didn’t expect to get word back for another week or two. It wasn’t a concern, it happened now and then. But while it started as something that should have been mild turned into something… I don’t know. I don’t remember. But I couldn’t help her. Azeyma have mercy, I couldn’t help her…”

Putting aside his glass, he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around and burying his face in them. Xander sat up and patted his leg with a soft trill as Risu leaned over to put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. Breathe. Take your time. If it hurts too much…”

Lysander shook his head, his shoulders shaking slightly. After a minute he sat up again, sniffing, and reached for his shirt to scrub his eyes with a sleeve. “I… There was nothing I could do. I fetched doctors, and they did what they could, but it was strange and it just… It was so fast, it took her in a week. And…then…” His hands balled into fists as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I got word from the Flames that father had been killed in action. The same day that mother had passed. I didn’t know until the day after and…”

Risu swore softly and put aside her glass, shifting to sit closer and pulling him against her. “Shit, that’s just… That’s bleeding _awful_. No wonder you never wanted to talk about this, or even think about it. Gods have mercy, sweetie, and you were fifteen? No other family?” He shook his head as he buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing quietly. “…Seven hells… I… I’m so sorry, for all of it. For what you went through, for living with it, for talking about it now… I’m sorry for prying, I shouldn’t have.”

“No.” He shook his head again and pulled away a little, sniffing. “It’s okay. I… I should have said something sooner, to someone, but I…”

“You didn’t know who you could trust?” He nodded and she pulled him into a hug again, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay. For what it’s worth, thank you. That you trust me with this, to let me see you cry and be vulnerable, that means a lot. I just wish I could help, to do or say or…”

“Listening. That means more than _you_ know.” Sniffing again, he sat up and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. He smiled as Xander hopped into the gap between his knees as he sat cross-legged, and he gave his little brother scritchies between the shoulders. “I ran away. There was nothing else I could do. They’re both gone because…because of me. If I had real skills, something that could be used to make proper money, father wouldn’t have gone off on those deployments like he did, and he’d have been there for her. Maybe…maybe then one or both of them…”

It took no small amount of self-control not to burst into tears again, but Risu politely busied herself with refilling their glasses and cutting off more meat and cheese until he’d found his center again. With a mumbled “thanks” he accepted both glass and snack, and consumed them silently. They shared both food and quiet for a few minutes, underscored by the gentle purring of a happy coeurl kitten, who had draped himself halfway over Lysander’s thigh and looked immensely pleased about it.

“I just…” he began, and Risu remained silent, giving him the space and time to think. “I just wish I… There was more I could have done. Something. _Anything_. But I didn’t. I don’t deserve love. I barely deserve kindness. And whenever I do return to the Lifestream it’s not like it’ll matter. Not like _I_ matter.”

“Utter shite,” Risu finally commented, taking a large gulp of wine, “that last bit, anyroad. You _do_ deserve love and you _do_ sodding matter. Despite what you may think, and I’ve no damn idea what that is right now, you have a home here and people that care about you. Seven hells, sweetie, look at that!” She pointed at his scar and gave him a fierce glare. “How did you get that?”

“I’m an idiot and picked a fight I couldn’t- OW!” He winced and rubbed the top of his head where she had rapped him with her knuckles.

“Total aldgoat shite! You got that because you care enough about other people, _complete bloody strangers_ , that you’ll put yourself in harm’s way rather than let them be subjected to slavery and misery. I bloody friggin’ _saw_ it! That bastard came at you all and you ran right back at him, ready to wreck him like a ship in a storm on the rocks. Reckless? Yes! Brave? Absolutely yes!” She puffed out her cheeks and folded her arms across her chest. “And you know what? I got to you just as you hit the ground. You were _smiling_. He may have gotten you, but damn if you didn’t take that hells-spawned son of a morbol with you.”

Her expression softened and she sagged a little, giving him a look of sympathy. “I get you, sweetie. I understand why you think like you do, but…” Exhaling deeply, she shook her head and managed a small smile. “Will you trust and believe me that you do matter to people after all? That the things you have done have lasting meaning and have made a change for the better? You often downplay your time as a courtesan, and I get that, too, but you weren’t just any dockside whore for rent, you entertained clients. You filled a need that nobody else could, and you did it with style, grace, and elegance. Damn it, Lys, I’m jealous!” Pursing her lips, she thought about that statement for a moment. “Well, jealous of the elegance and stuff, not so much some of the other things. Not my thing, y’know?”

It took him a moment to get her drift, but he nodded and smiled as well. “Ah, you seek friendships, not relationships.”

Leaning back on her hands, her grin returned as she stretched her legs out in front of her. “Yeah. Never felt that tug of romance or infatuation or what have you. I like friends, and yeah, I like hugs and stuff, but I’ve never felt the urge to go farther.” She shrugged off-handedly. “Not my thing. But if you like it then I’m happy that you’ve found something you like and someone you can share it with.”

With a dignified sniff, Lysander reached for his wineglass, smirking into it as he gave her a wry glance. “Well, that’s a good thing, because I consider you a sister, and were you to make advances upon me I’d have to turn you down, and I do so hate to see you disappointed.”

Risu laughed heartily and playfully shoved him, then reached for her own glass. “You are _such_ an ass! But I’m glad to see you smiling again. Feeling better?”

He blew out a long sigh, watching the waves for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

“Anytime, ‘little brother.’”

They sat in comfortable silence until the food and wine were gone, enjoying the sun and wind and waves until there was too little of the first and too much of the second. Gathering up the supplies from their impromptu picnic, they went back inside and changed the salves and bandages on his wounds. Shortly after that he discarded his clothes in a messy heap on the floor and curled up in bed. _His_ bed, finally! He hugged a pillow to his chest as he got comfortable, feeling Xander nestle in his usual spot against him somewhere, and allowed himself a dejected sigh. He didn’t deserve love or companionship, he knew that. He wasn’t good enough for anyone, especially not someone like Jacke. That didn’t make the ache hurt any less. Rather, it hurt more. Perhaps it _would_ be better if he vanished after all, whether onto the road once more or permanently into the Lifestream…

Humming his mother’s lullaby softly to himself, he fought another wave of tears. He’d never shared that song with anyone else. Would it die with him? Something like that should at least survive him. He should teach it to Risu, so at least someone would remember it, even if he wasn’t worth remembering. Sleep took its time in taking him, but mercifully it finally did, and he dreamt of better times; of smiles and laughter he’d not seen or heard in half of a lifetime, and upon waking, cried for a good ten minutes when he realized that it had all been nothing more than a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


	9. Prologue 09: A New Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //The final chapter in the prologues! From here on out the "live" stories take place, where the actual RP has taken place. I'll get to those as I organize THOSE notes, and updates should happen much faster from now on. Thanks for reading!//

Delicate fingers traced up Lysander’s back, and he shivered pleasantly, returning it with both hands as he nibbled Jacke’s neck. He gasped softly as it was his turn to be nibbled, going up and along his ear. Pulling away, he cupped the other man’s face with a gentle hand, leaning forward to-

_Pap._

Lysander blinked, wondering what the-

_Pap pap._

He blinked again, his vision clearing, and it resolved into Xander sitting on his chest, a fuzzy paw being pulled back after patting his cheek. With a happy trill, he patted Lysander’s nose and padded over to the side of the bed, tail held high.

“…What in the… I was just…” It took a few more seconds for everything to piece together, and then he shot Xander a very grumpy look. “I was about to snog him, you furry little shite!” Without malice or heat, he threw a small pillow in Xander’s direction, which was easily dodged and then swatted for good measure. Sighing deeply, Lysander flopped back against the remaining pillows and put an arm over his eyes. The bed shifted a little as Xander jumped up, walked over again, and prodded his ear, chirping with hungry petulance. “Push off,” Lysander huffed, shoving his pet off of the bed.

Xander composure groomed himself as Lysander sat up again, then danced in place as the Hyur got up and staggered to the closet for clean trousers. A clean shirt followed, and he left it at that, his hair loose and disheveled as he stumbled out of the room, looking for food for Xander and coffee for himself. Some fresh fish (carefully deboned!) was placed on a plate for Xander, and he rumbled with happiness as he ate messily. Lysander managed to figure out a mug, coffee, and cream without making a mess, yawned broadly, and sat down heavily at a table.

The guild was active at all hours, technically, though at this point in the morning there was less “activity” and more “just waking up or ready to go to sleep” than anything else. Chin in his hand and elbow on the table, Lysander stared off at nothing while he tried to get at least two brain cells to connect, idly listening to Xander gobble down his breakfast. He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder as he picked up his coffee. Ah, he thought that he had seen Risu come down.

“G’morning, luv,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his drink.

“G’mornin’, dear,” an amused voice replied, and Lysander choked on his drink, somehow not spilling anything on his shirt. (Seriously, why did he still wear white shirts?) There was polite laughter, and he turned to meet those bright blue eyes that always did such good and bad things to him. The guildmaster folded his arms across his chest and grinned at Lysander, chuckling again as a blush connected both ears.  “Well, looks like ye don’t need the coffee anymore now. Expectin’ someone else, were ye?”

“Ah…yeah… I… Sorry! I didn’t mean to, erm, that is, not that you would…” Lysander got up to get a towel, ostensibly to clean up the spill, but in truth it was so he wouldn’t make an even bigger fool of himself.

_You daft muppet. Complete and utter pillock. Always making a damn fool of yourself in front of him. All it takes is a smile and you’re tongue-tied and useless. Get yourself together, he’d never be interested in you._

Berating himself silently, he almost missed Jacke’s commentary as the green-clad Hyur observed Xander licking the plate clean. “Cor, there’s no alarm better than a cat’s stomach, is there?” Laughing again, he shrugged. “Though it’s goin’ to be right interestin’ when he gets bigger, ye might find yerself zapped awake.”

Lysander paused in wiping the table to watch Xander wash his face, licking a paw and drawing it delicately and firmly over his face and ears. Sighing, Lysander put a hand on the back of his chair, resting his weight on it. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. He’s small and cute now, but I’ve seen full-grown ones. Even if he ends up on the small side he’s still going to be sodding huge, and I don’t know what I’ll do. Some days I wonder if it was best for him that I took him with me.”

“Possibly, but you did say that he pitched a bit of a fit when you tried to leave, didn’t he?” a new voice chimed in. Lysander smiled as Risu strolled over, a mug of coffee in one hand as she grabbed the now-damp towel and flicked it into the sink across the room with remarkable skill. “And I’d say it says good things about your character that not only did you take him in out of the goodness of your heart, but you’re concerned about his future, rather than just selling or dropping him off when he gets to be a nuisance.”

“If I was going to get rid of him for being a nuisance he’d have been gone long ago,” Lysander chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down, “but I guess you’re right. Still… I don’t know, I can’t quite keep him here, but…”

Jacke shrugged and stretched, and Lysander couldn’t help himself watching the action with great interest. “The important thing is that ye plan to do somethin’ about it. Ye don’t have a plan yet, but that doesn’t mean ye won’t. Right, off ta go deal with business. Have a good day, _dear_ ,” he chuckled, and Lysander felt his face grow hot again.

Risu giggled at this, then grunted as Xander hopped into her lap. “Looks like I missed something.”

“Um… I…thought he was you.”

Risu was surprisingly observant, and put together the conversation as well as the damp towel and giggled again. “Aww, you called him ‘luv,’ didn’t you? Looks like he took it okay.”

For the third time Lysander blushed, this time with a glare added to it. “He deserves better. I _can’t_ tell him. …Anyroad, it would be awkward, the guild master and one of his subordinates? That would create too much gossip and problems outside that I don’t wanna cause. I… I just need to keep it all to myself.”

“…What if you weren’t a Rogue?”

The question was honest and curious, making Lysander consider it for a moment rather than dismiss it out of hand. “I’ve thought of that, but I rather like what I’m doing, and besides, what will I do if I leave? I’ve got no skills outside of the bedroom or off the battlefield. I just… I just don’t know…”

Unable to add anything useful, Risu patted his shoulder supportively and sipped her coffee, petting Xander. Lysander drank what was left of his and got up for a second cup. What _would_ he do?

A while later he was strolling along the docks in Limsa Lominsa, properly dressed, hair brushed and tied back, and looking presentable. He felt much better, too. He could get around without problems now, and no longer needed the bandages. Maybe he could start earning his keep again, but in another day or two. These jaunts around the city still left him a little tired, but he was getting his strength back. Xander padded along at his heels, sniffing everything and trying to play with anything smaller than himself. Then something caught the Hyur's interest and he made a sharp turn down one of the piers.

A very large ship with enormous, crimson-red sails was docked, but something about the design was odd. As he got closer he realized that it was in fact a hybrid sailing and airship. Not an engineer himself, he wasn’t sure how that worked, but he still appreciated skill and the sort of things it took to make such devices, so he walked alongside it, examining it with great interest. Whoever owned it was definitely well-off. Likely a merchant.

His Rogue senses prickled and he glanced up, hissing through his teeth to see Xander trotting up the gangplank to the ship’s deck. Apparently Lysander wasn’t the only one interested in this curious conveyance. Running up the plank, he groaned as he saw the dark tail disappear into the hold.

_Damn it, cat!_

Using that strange Rogue trick of making one’s self not be noticed, he followed his pet, trying to dart forward to grab him, but unable to do so without breaking his stealth. This must have been a delightful game for Xander, as he kept hopping just out of reach each time, but never so much that he’d lose his companion.  They went further into the ship and Lysander’s pulse crept higher. They’d not seen anyone yet, but his luck wouldn’t hold out forever.

That luck held long enough for Xander to enter a galley and pause, sniffing the air, and this gave Lysander the opening he needed to lunge and pick up the errant coeurl. “You little _shit_. C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone finds us.”

“Stowaways, are you?” someone asked, and Lysander’s blood ran cold.

_SHIT._

He spun on his heel and found his exit blocked by a red-haired Seeker, a bit shorter than himself and dressed as a corsair, with numerous tattoos and piercings, somewhat tattered ears, and an eyepatch that did not look merely decorative. He put Lysander in mind of an alley tomcat that had been in countless fights and not lost any of them.

“It’s his fault,” Lysander replied, holding up Xander for emphasis, then immediately felt extremely stupid for it. Shit, he was going to be in trouble with so many people for this.

Interestingly enough, this response seemed to give the other man pause, and he studied both Hyur and cat with one very green eye before sighing and shaking his head. “Another special one,” he chuckled, then made a “follow me” gesture. “You hungry?”

It took Lysander a couple of seconds to realize that not only was he _not_ in trouble, but being offered a meal, and he switched gears from “panic” to “polite.” “Ah, yes, I am. He probably is, too, and terribly sorry about this.” He followed along, keeping a firm grip on the spotted nuisance, who reached out to try to play with the very long braid that swung as the Seeker walked. “We were out for a walk, saw the ship, and I got a bit closer for a good look, but apparently he wanted a full tour. Again, my apologies,  I was trying to get him and get out without a fuss.”

His explanation faded as they entered a different galley, this one larger than the first, already occupied by others; a female Xaela, and two children of less than ten summers, but strangely, they appeared to be both Miqo’te _and_ Xaela. With a quick glance between her and his escort, Lysander assumed that they must be married, and these children theirs. He held his tongue, though, putting Xander down and going to wash his hands as directed.

He was greeted warmly by the dark-haired female, introducing herself as “Belle,” and asking if Dominic had brought him in to help. “Dominic? Oh, him. Ah, bit of a story…” He related his tale quickly, earning a polite chuckle, and took his turn to listen as she guided him in helping prepare some fish for sushi. This was completely new to him, as his diet in Ul’dah growing up never included fish or raw things, owing to seafood rarely surviving the trip through the desert, and that uncooked foods in such an environment were often terribly unsafe.  Claws in his thigh made him stifle a yelp, and he glared at Xander, who gave him a very large-eyed, whiskers-forward look. “Push off a bit, I’ll get you some when we’re finished.” Xander huffed at him and followed him continually all through the preparation process.

When they were done, Lysander helped bring the sliced fish to the table and found it occupied by a violet-haired Keeper. She flashed him a bright smile and waved. “Hi! I’m Lelerue! Are you a new addition to the crew?”

“Ah, I don’t think so, I got here by accident. My pet got away from me.”

She looked down and squee’d with delight. “Oh! He’s so cute! What’s his name?”

Feeling relieved, Lysander took a seat next to her as Dominic and Belle brought the rice and tea over, as Lelerue had already set the table. “That’s Xander. I usually go by ‘Lys,’ and since he needed an older brother, I gave him the half of my name I don’t use.”

Cooing at the spotted animal, she took a small plate and put a piece of the sliced fish on it for him. Xander erupted in a rumbling purr as he hunkered down to eat, not minding his ears being scratched. With a bit of help Lysander figured out how to assemble his own meal, as apparently this was a sort of “do it yourself” family thing. Despite not having grown up with such a thing, and not eaten much fish even though he’d been in Limsa for so long, he found this to be a very tasty and satisfying meal. When prompted to know more about himself, he smiled and shifted into “bard” mode, relating his past and tales with a grin and a flourish, grateful for an interested audience. He’d paid for more than one meal with song and dance, this would just be one more.

When he was done, as was dinner, Dominic regarded him thoughtfully over the rim of his teacup, inquiring if Lysander was looking to change careers, and the Hyur nearly dropped his own drink. “I… Actually, I rather had. After that fight I’ve done nothing but recover, and it’s not the first time I’ve nearly gotten myself killed. Maybe a change of lifestyles is in order.”

They talked for a while longer, and at the end of it, Lysander had made his decision.

 

“Wow, that didn’t take long,” Risu remarked, her legs dangling over the edge of the dock as she watched the sun set.

Nodding, Lysander leaned against the support pylon next to her. “Yeah, but I’d been thinking about doing something else for a while, and this would open my horizons a bit. That, and I could put away a bit of money, see the world, what have you. Once Xander is older I’ll have a better idea of what I’ll be able to do for him and where we can live, so this is a step in the right direction.”

With a nod of agreement, she rested her weight on her hands behind her. “We’ll all miss you, but it’s a good idea. You did get yourself hurt pretty bad, so I don’t blame you for wanting to step away for a while. Just be sure to come back and visit now and then, okay?” He nodded back, and they enjoyed the sunset a bit longer.

“Um, so…” she began, breaking the silence, and he shifted to look down at her. “You remember a couple of years ago when you got, erm, blown off of that ship?”

Rolling his eyes, Lysander grunted. “Hard not to, you nearly got me drowned.”

“About that.” This piqued his curiosity, and he watched her quietly. “When…Jacke got you to the dock and I pulled you up you…weren’t breathing.” Lysander’s eyes went wide, but he said nothing, as he remembered nothing between the explosion and waking up on the dock. “You… Um, I never said anything because I didn’t want it to be awkward, but… Jacke’s the reason you’re still alive. Not just because he got you to me, but because he gave you rescue breathing.”

The world went a bit blurry and wobbly for a moment, and Lysander put his fingers to his lips. Wait, Jacke had really… Risu waited in silence for him to absorb this, and for a response. When he didn’t say anything, she stared at the surface of the water and continued kicking her legs, twining a lock of hair around her finger. “I never said anything because I didn’t think it was my place to do so, and I didn’t want anything weird to happen between you two because of it, but…” She glanced up at him, looking apologetic. “Since you’re thinking of leaving, I figured that, well…”

“Yeah…”

They had been good enough friends for long enough for her to know that his silence was thoughtful and that he was grateful for this information, but at the same time, it was unexpected. They said nothing more until it got dark, then went inside to announce his “retirement” and where he’d be going. It wasn’t ill-received, but all the same, his skills would be missed, as well as his personality.  Only now did it occur to him that he had really left an impression here and that they genuinely did care. He felt a twinge of guilt, but the honest well-wishes he got eased that pain.

There wasn’t much for him to transfer to the ship the next day, and it was accomplished in two runs. He left Xander on the ship when he went back for the last time to make sure that he’d grabbed everything and to give the last round of goodbyes. He hadn’t missed anything, but he would miss them all, and he felt a cold stab of sadness to not see Jacke there. Damn…

Perhaps it was for the best after all…

Standing next to the ship, Lysander stared up at it, lost in thought. This was going to be his new home. A new adventure. As he began to walk toward the gangplank he jumped when he heard a familiar chuckle. Jacke?!

The guildmaster leaned against a support, smirking at him. “Ha, ye jumped like a fresh colt, L’sander. Not gone soft already, have ye?”

Lysander’s heart thundered in his ears, not just from surprise, but delight. He had one last chance! “I wasn’t expecting anyone, honestly, especially… Well…”

“Ye really thought I’d not say g’bye? I’m insulted!” Jacked laughed and nodded at the ship. “So, a new life sailin’ the skies an’ seas? What will ye be doin’?”

About to answer, Lysander chuckled quietly and smiled. “You came here to kill me yourself.” A grin was his reply, and Lysander hooked his thumbs in his belt. “No worries, mate, I’m not going pirate. They’re traders and merchants. Yes, they’ll hit other ships, but Garlean only, and I think we can all agree that those bastards are fair game. In fact, having me along makes things easier, since they can state with honesty that they’ve got a Rogue on board, so not only am I ensuring that they stay to the code, others know that we’re not to be messed with.”

“Oh? ‘We’ already?” He laughed again and waved a hand as Lysander turned a bit red. “It’s okay, that’s good, yer loyalty was never in doubt. Still, if it came down to it and ye did turn, well, I’d do ye the honor of killin’ ye myself.”

This would have sounded strange to damn near anyone else, but the Rogues’ Guild is a strange family, and Lysander wrapped that thought up and tucked it away to remember later. _Family_. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward, paused, reached out with one hand, then drew it back. He _was_ leaving, so it couldn’t hurt, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin everything at the very end.

Steeling himself, he made his decision and wrapped his arms around the other Hyur, pulling him in for a final hug. Jacke didn’t pull away, and to Lysander’s amazement, returned the hug. This was it. The last time, the last chance… Lysander took in every sense that he could, committing everything to memory; the scent of Jacke’s cologne, the touch of their hands on each other, the sound of his laugh… It was both wonderful and awful, and it hurt so well and so badly.

_He’s here. You’re both alone. You can do this. You’re leaving anyway. You might die soon, you never know, so why not? Don’t leave it undone, just go ahead and-_

Tears burned his eyes, and he blinked them away as he stepped back. “I… I want to… You’re…” He clenched a fist and smiled, albeit sadly. “Thank you, for everything. …Goodbye.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked up the gangplank, biting his lip to hold back tears just a little longer. Lysander Morgensonne the Rogue was now gone. He was now part of the crew of the Crimson Rose. A new life had started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//

**Author's Note:**

> //If for whatever reason you think I'm interesting, I am the [Random Squirrel](http://randomsquirrel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Contains reblogs of things I think are interesting and random acts of shitposting.//


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